The Bright Side

Beauty in the day: he came to school with his two fingers taped together. He said that he had a broken finger and that it happened two days ago – no, two weeks ago. Mid-class, he decided he wanted to change the tape, so he came to the Clinic. I bound it with some of that paper first-aid tape. Not too tight.
“I’m so lucky I have a pencil,” he informed me. “At recess I can let people sign my finger.”
The he added, “The good one. I don’t want them to sign the bad one.”

Bring It On

Beauty in the day: my school nurse has convinced my AP that I should go in and run the lunchroom. It should be noted here that the beauty in this day belongs solely to them, as I am planning to escape before that ever happens.

That said, I could take that lunchroom with both hands tied behind my back. 😉

Harmonicas and Fidget Spinners

Beauty in the day: there were two of them, standing in front of my desk this morning before school started. One has been there many, many times, his daily mission to talk to me before line-up. The other is a new student, sweet and quiet; it’s unexpected that she wants to visit – but she does.
He started it out. “Ms. Nordstrom, I would like a fidget spinner. ” This is in reference (as my story will show) to a well-used fidget spinner that is on display in my window. It’s not there to torture the students – much.
“I don’t have fidget spinners here!”
He begged to differ, as he inclined his head with a tilt toward the one on display.
“Oh, that’s MY fidget spinner. But I don’t have any for students here.”
No matter – he was nonplussed. “I would like a USB.”
A USB? He wants a USB? I looked confused. He inclined his head again and tilted it toward my window, where there were 2 USB flash drives. One belonged to a parent who had left it behind the day before, and one was mine.
“That’s MY USB. I don’t have USB’s for students here.”
While he thought of his next request, shy girl pipes in. “I want that Griffin!” She pointed to the Eagle statue in my window.
“Well, that’s actually an Eagle. And it belongs to the school, so I can’t give it to you.”
As equally prepared to continue as the boy, she asked if I had any extra harmonicas. 🙄
There are no harmonicas in my window display.
I sent them to line up. 🤷🏻‍♀️

#givingthesagearunforhismoney

Proper Verbage

Beauty in the day: he came to the office from recess with a “broken arm”. He didn’t tell my assistant why he was there – just that he was waiting for me.
When I came, he informed me (with worried eyes) that he had broken his arm at recess. Desiring to reassure him, I looked boldly at his tattooed forearm, and pronounced that he had no need to worry; the arm wasn’t broken.

This was met with crocodile tears and a low whine – I had clearly said the wrong thing. I encouraged him to come into the clinic so we could examine him, which he did. The clinic aide was on-hand, and when she heard the news that his arm had been broken, she gave him a much-needed “awwwwwwww!”
This did much to bring healing to this younger brother of Aussie Boy.

#justsayawwwwwwww

The Formula

Beauty in the day: they came in together, each with their own ailment – one whose arm was hurting (for no apparent reason), the other who said she hurt her side a few days prior, and it was hurting.
“Oh! I never like it when that happens either! Have you tried the rubbing thing?”
They had not, but looked somewhat intrigued. I had to pull out a more engaging explanation than usual, because I know these littles.
“Oh, yes – let’s do try. You just take this hand, and then you gently rub, and sometimes pat, just like your mommy would do – does your mommy do that?”
Their mommies did not do that.
“Oh, well, how lucky! I’ll bet you never thought that you would get to go home and teach something to your mama, did you?”
Once again, intrigued.
“I think I can bend my arm better now!”
“My side feels better!”
“Wow! you two are just like little magical fairies!”
They left in agreement of that statement.