Beauty in the day: it was time to take the daily walk to pick up Jaffrey from school, so Bree told Everett to get ready. He showed up with her crocheted beanie cap filled with about 16 hot wheels. She noted this and mentally rolled her eyes, but figured if he could carry them in the cap, it wasn’t worth the argument to tell him to leave them behind.
When they reached the school, the children we being dismissed, and heading out to meet their parents. Bree suddenly became aware that Everett was passing out his hot wheels to kids, saying, “Merry Christmas!” Bree asked him if he knew that he wasn’t getting those back, and Everett said, “I know, but they’re for the kids!”
Beauty in the day: it was actually last Friday and I forgot to share. We have Eagle Tickets that kids earn for being great kids in a way that was noticeable (since they are already all great kids).
Two young men came into the office with their tickets. One was telling me that he was SURE to get a prize, because he had 14 tickets in the drawing. His friend slowly shook his head with a calm smile. “You don’t get it, dude. The prize is the happiness you get in earning the ticket.”
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: 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.”
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. 🤷🏻♀️