Beauty in the day: he talks to us. We often don’t understand what he’s saying, but he’s also pretty animated, so us educated folk are generally able to decipher his antics. Today he had a few words for the Librarian. He seemed interested in her vest, and she leaned down to let him in’vest’igate. He motioned to her zipper, which he then grasped, and pulled up to her chin. She thanked him with a smile, and he left, exhibiting pride in a job well-done.
Sometimes love is letting someone zip you up.
Beauty in the day: he wanted an ice pack. “I need an ice pack for my arm,” he said, massaging his shoulder at the joint.
“What happened? Why is it hurting?”
“It hurts because I was raising my arm for so long.”
“Oh – I don’t think an ice pack will really work for that, but….wow! You must be a really good student! Were you raising your hand and waiting to answer a question?”
He said no, but explained further. “I was raising my arm to signal zero noise level.”
I faked a double-take. “Seriously? Wow! You really ARE a good student!” I stood up and motioned to shake his hand, which he allowed, in a proud-yet-bewildered manner. I dismissed him then, calling after him, “Keep up the good work!”
Unlike some of the kids who leave with no memory of why they had arrived in the first place, this one left happy, but kept looking back at me on his way down the hall.
He may be onto me.
Beauty in the day: he came and stood at the tall end of the desk, his eyes peeking at me. I asked him why he was there.
“Well, I was in line, and [one classmate] got in line in front of me….” he trailed off for just a moment, and looked distant – then resumed. “And [other classmate] got in line behind me.”
I waited for the terrible tragedy that must have befallen him at this point.
He blinked. Three times, I think.
That was it. The tragedy.
At least, that was all I was getting.
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. 😉
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. 🤷🏻♀️
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.
Beauty in the day: you may possibly recall that last night I recounted a happy “Teacher PD” session on FB. A portion of that brilliance centered around teachers suggesting – nay, PROMISING to send students to me with chairs (it’s important to note, that I work with a group of people with a high level of integrity. A promise made, I discovered, WILL be kept).
Now, this week has been Spirit Week at Ardmore. For the “uneducated” on this point, let me explain that Spirit Week is a wonderful, fun, exciting sequence of events that will bring joy to your heart, and drain the energy from your body and mind. Today, Friday, was the proverbial “cherry on top” – you guessed it – Character Day. This is when you get to come in costume, depicting a favorite character. Think Halloween, only in February, and without all the candy (whew!). Suffice it to say, there were a great many distractions all week, and today was the pinnacle. I was working feverishly away – there was much to do on the Friday before Mid-Winter Break.
It was time for Kindergarten Music, and as the teacher (a promise-keeper) led her cuties to the Music Room (which is perpendicular to the office), she made a sudden detour, directing her learners to my desk, each of them carrying a picture of a chair, colored in and labeled with lovely messages. They were delightful, and a few could not contain themselves to follow the (assumed) direction of silence (based on much whispering), but instead burst out in salutations and “I loves you’s”. 🙂
Yet, the day was not over.
I think I have also mentioned before that I work in a “fishbowl” of an office, surrounded by windows. I looked up from an email to discover a small student in front of me, a student chair at her side. “My Teacher told me to bring you this chair,” she said soberly. I thanked her sincerely, and showed her where she should deposit it. Smiling to myself, I went back to my work. But Lo, approximately 6 minutes later, I viewed a little boy coming down the hallway, a chair in tow. Again came the sober pronouncement. This happened two more times, and I halted child number four to wait while I wrote a note to the teacher. “Dear Teacher, Thank you for sending down the chairs! It’s wonderful! Unfortunately, I don’t have a table to put them around.”
It may have only taken 2.5 minutes to look up and see two first-graders lugging a student desk to the Office.
Spirit Week isn’t only for kids.
Oh – and there was a giant Scaredy Squirrel.