Tag Archives: good news

Glory Days

Beauty in the day: his teacher brought him in to the office. He’d been there before, more than once (more than twice) under less-than-optimal circumstances.
“Ms. Nordstrom, if you have a minute, My Friend has something to show you.” I did have a minute, and I could see the news was good. I took a minute to tease him a bit, telling him not to smile while he told me his news. Naturally, this was a terribly difficult command, but he did try. He was unsuccessful, both at not smiling, and at getting the news out, since it’s hard not to smile when you feel very happy, and it’s hard to get the news out when your teacher is so proud she beats you to it. “My Friend has had a very good day!” She started to show me his chart, all filled up with goodness, and Her Friend was turning every shade of happiness, as his teacher used descriptions like, “he CRUSHED his math!” Letting inspiration take hold (and having whooped and hollered and high-fived, and used other exclamations like, “NO WAY!!!), I got out my phone to take pictures of his proofs to send to the principal, who was out of the office for the day. “OmiGOSH! I can’t wait for him to see this stuff, dude!” I told him. “I’m going to text it to him right away!”
They left the office then, and I sent the pictures. I know my principal, and tomorrow Her Friend is going to get another shower of glory.
THIS is school. And I can tell you’re all jealous.

Beauty Squared

Beauty in the day: there was more than one. Or maybe it was that I was out of the office for the previous 2 days, so that the kids just seemed cuter? Nah…
Before school could even start 2nd grade girl comes into the office, and announced boisterously: “I just got the good news about ME.” Seems she is scheduled to receive not one, but TWO awards at our upcoming 1st Trimester Awards Assembly, and apparently she is getting an award for ART, as well as one for ATTITUDE. I didn’t even need to pat her on the back; she was doing just fine.

Not long after that I was approached by Daily 3rd grade boy, who came to me and asked, “Can I tell you something?” My eyebrow went up, and I said to him (I really did), “Well, if I say ‘no’, you’re just going to tell me anyways, right?” He confirmed this theory, and so I motioned for him to “please continue”.
“Never eat at Mcdonald’s. Or never eat at family restaurants – or, I mean, fast-food restaurants.”
I have to admit, I was curious.
“And why is that?” – it was a good question; I wasn’t disappointed.
“Because they put eyeballs.”
“They put eyeballs?”
“In the food. They put eyeballs.”
“And how did you come to discover this?”
“I saw it. On the menu.”
Since I had been gone the previous two days, I was clearly a bit out of practice, because I engaged him.
“I have seen the menu, and I have not seen anything about eyeballs on it. I am sure about this.”
He countered. “Well, what I mean is that I went behind the counter where they work, and I saw.”
This I could not refute. After all, I have not been behind the counter.
“And you saw EYEBALLS??!?!??!?”
“Yes,” he said with a marked air of authority. “But you can go to Red Robbin. They do not put eyeballs in their food there.”

~ ~ ~ So there was that.

Near lunchtime, Favorite 2nd grade boy who sometimes sings Spanish-Gaelic songs (forgive me, IRISH-Gaelic – the poor boy feels that I will never let him live that down) came in to the office with a small baggie in his grip. “I have brought some first aid things with me that I will use today to be a helper at recess, in case anyone gets hurt.” He had some bandaids, and gloves, and gauze inside. During the recess, he brought a girl in (he didn’t know she was a frequent flyer). He already had his latex gloves donned, and he escorted her into the clinic, setting about the task of providing her with an ice pack (note: the ice pack is the one tool that is used more than any other in the school clinic. If a child came in suffering from frostbite or exposure, they would ask first and foremost for an ice pack). He honestly had the bedside manner of a very fine physician.

Finally, 5th-grade-girl-who-was-doing-math came in with eyes that were bothering her. I came in to see that the school nurse had suggested she lay down and shut her eyes for a minute or two.
“I’m not sure,” I said, “but my eyes are bothering me too, I think, and I would like to lay down and shut them for a minute or two as well.” I laid on the other cot, and closed my eyes, remarking on how lovely that felt, which caused 5th grade girl (who was missing math) to begin giggling. Apparently I look very comical laying on a clinic cot.

Happy Day to any of you who had so many beauties in one day!