Category Archives: Fun

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. πŸ™„
There are no harmonicas in my window display.
I sent them to line up. πŸ€·πŸ»β€β™€οΈ

#givingthesagearunforhismoney

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The Rhythm is Gonna Get You

Beauty in the day: standing in line to see the Terra Cotta Warriors led to another wait in a darkened vestibule. Little 7-ish-year-old waiting near me with mom and dad was finding the wait to be – well – challenging. It became apparent that the little one was involved in dance or cheer, as she was doing steps and arm motions in her spot, much to the consternation of her mother, who would whisper to her to stop. Little One would stop, but the rhythm had a hold of her, and within seconds she would be back at it, only to be reminded by mom to stop again. This continued (to my delight), and gave credence to Maya Angelou’s quote: “Everything in the universe has a rhythm, everything dances.”

The Standard of Long

Beauty in the day: the first-grader caught me during his breakfast. “Ms. Nordstrom, do you have good plans for the weekend?”
I told him I didn’t have special plans, but that I was looking forward to a restful weekend.
“I think you should go see Captain Underpants,” was his suggestion. I raised my eyebrows at this, and told him I would have to consider that idea, and mentioned that I had heard that Wonder Woman was also showing, and that maybe I would see it.
He gave me a troubled look and then gave me the worrisome news: “I’ve heard that it’s really long – like, an hour.”
Good thing it’s the weekend and I might have an hour to spare.

Invisible is a Color

Beauty in the day: the principal came in from recess with a story to tell. Apparently he had just finished intervening with two very young girls who were engaged in a sort of, “slap fight”. He demonstrated this kind of childish, flailing hands kind thing. “The funny thing about it was the REASON for the conflict. It turns out they were playing a make-believe game about magical things. One girl was in charge of granting the other girl’s wish.”

“I would like an invisible cape!”
The other girl granted this wish easily, or so it would seem. The wish became more complicated, as the first girl clarified that the cape should be “sparkly pink”.
The grantor explained that, no, the invisible cape was most certainly NOT sparkly pink.
Now, the first girl was rather put-out at this point, and again asserted that the cape should absolutely be sparkly pink.
The second girl disagreed again, and this is about where the slap fight started.
The principal mediated, and, listening to the explanations of what had taken place, asked the wish-grantor why she didn’t just agree that the invisible cape could be a sparkly pink one?
She exhaled and rolled her eyes. “If it’s INVISIBLE, then it wouldn’t have any COLOR.”

Although I beg to differ here, I do see where she was going with that.

Small Talk

Beauty in the day: she is 3. We were out in the playground during an after-school event, and she was in the sandbox, digging.
I asked her what she was making, and she said she wasn’t making anything, she was just digging.

I can appreciate that she likes to call a spade a spade, so I left it there. I made some comments about what a fantastic digger she was. This apparently led her to sort of feel compassion for my efforts, because she switched gears suddenly, and announced that she was cooking.
I seized on this new information with much exclaiming, and asked her what she was making. She told me without looking up that it was stew.
I could have left it at that, but I didn’t. She was sharing, and I was enjoying the attention. “Wow, stew, huh? Are you making it for yourself, or for your whole family?”

Clearly having the realization that this conversation might continue beyond the current small talk, she looked up at me with a bored expression and said blandly, “it’s just sand.”

Note to self: enthusiasm is great, but know your audience. If it’s a very precocious little 3-year-old with edge, know that she is so on to you.

Little Big Man

Beauty in the day: he is little. Teeny-tiny. He’s one of those teeny-tiny packages that pack a wallop. He came in before school with a nasty scrape on his forearm, the wound bright red. He was HOWLING. My poor assistant was trying to dab at the spot, which only made him howl more. Those little packages can make a lot of noise. πŸ˜‰
I jumped in, if only to rescue my assistant and put and end to his misery. I grabbed some gauze, and got him to look at me while I counted loudly out loud, “1, 2, 3, 4,” and made some quick work of wiping away the redness.
“Here, buddy, hold this,” I told him, and grabbed his free hand to hold the fresh gauze over the scrape (at this point, it was medically unnecessary, but emotionally necessary).
His trauma scale was now at a 7 from the original 10, evidenced by the heavy breathing coupled with the FIERY level look he was aiming at me. I began to open a bandaid package. “I do NOT want a BIG bandaid!” he informed me in no uncertain terms.
I set down the big bandaid with great pomp, and grabbed up a medium one. I didn’t wait for his opinion, but started talking my way through it rapidly, having sized up my foe and determined the best course to confuse him. I placed it over his wound, and he took 3 even breaths, and then turned on his heel to head to class, muttering loudly to himself as he went.

At lunch, he returned. “Take it off,” he said regally and with great importance.

“Oh, no. No, we will not take if off, friend, because you have a scrape under there that needs to heal.”

“It is better now,” he dictated. “Take it off!”

“Nope. Sorry, buddy. Not taking it off. That needs to stay on.”

We had a short argument then, him wrangling to remove the bandaid, and me standing my ground. I came up with a compromise. “Okay, we can take it off so you can look at it, but then I will cover it back up with a new one.” He felt this to be preposterous (which it was), and opted to leave it on.
“Make sure you show it to your mom when you get home, and she can decide if you can take it off.”

I’ve never seen a 5-year-old master the technique of the double-take…until now. He screwed his face up tight and looked at me with the scoffing-est of scoffing looks. “I will NOT show it to my mother!” he said over his shoulder, as he exited the office with the swiftness of one who isn’t interested in getting caught up and any more ridiculous conversation.

It’s important that our jobs are not around the clock. I can likely use the down time to restrategize.