 |
| Sometimes the biggest lessons aren't necessarily learned in the classroom, but outside in the form of a toad. |
44 degrees/clear skies/breezy
Pentoga Road
Finally, a few minutes to call my own. My Packers cup is filled with freshly brewed coffee, Sargie's still slumbering upstairs, and the sun is just beginning to peek over the trees. It's the perfect beginning to the weekend.
The past two days have been busy ones as I scurried up and down the halls and out onto the playground in the name of education. I'm lucky, I've been privileged to work with some great faculty and staff. You've heard me call Florence "a shining gem hidden away in the north woods." It still rings true.
That being said, the students are still kiddies and with kiddies come challenges. My first came two days ago while, during a bus behavior class with four year olds, one little boy came to me and said, "I have to go potty, really really really really really bad."
If it were just two or three reallys I wouldn't worry about, but when a boy has to go five really's worth, you know it's urgent.
I'm well versed in potty procedures for little boys, but since a "nature tinkles" was out of the question at school, I told him to get moving towards the bathroom, that I'd walk him in.
He was in distress, that was evident. The boy was dancing, pulling, yanking, and it was clear that disaster wasn't far away.
"Let's go!" I said smiling. "Get moving!"
Boy Munchkin smiled back and took off running. I trotted behind him, fiddling in my pocket for the keys to the security system.
Rather than wait for me to open the door, the boy got bored and took off in the opposite direction. Seems he'd seen the flower planter and with the attention span of a two by four, decided to climb that while waiting for me to retrieve the right key.
I finally got the door to cooperate and yelled for the tyke. He didn't hear me. Climbing a flower planter was so much fun.
"I though you had to potty!" I said.
"I do," he replied as he attempted to summit the three foot high obstacle.
It's not easy for a little guy to climb a brick flower planter, holding onto the edge with one hand and tugging at his boy parts with the other.
Life is about priorities and clearly, going tinkles, at least in the bathroom, wasn't one of them.
I plucked the little guy from high stop Mt. Flower Planter and, tucking him under one arm, carried him sideways, (making sure he was facing away from me... Mama didn't have no dummy) while I opened the door with the other.
We made it to the bathroom just in the nick of time and eventually back to the bus.
Florence Elementary has a wonderful American Ninja Warrior playground.
It's refreshing to see the little ones actually doing some physical activity.
I was in the gym on Thursday when Secretary Holly approached me with a sorrowful look on her face.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Oh, there's a man in your office and he seems really upset."
"Upset?" I asked. What the heck could he be that upset about?"
"Something that happened on the bus," she replied. I put him in your office and closed the door. He's really mad."
I took my time getting to the office, preparing myself for the first daddy onslaught of the year. I've tangled with many daddies in the past. I might as well add one more to the list.
Taking a big breath, I stepped in and started to speak when the daddy stood and laughed.
It was Jambo.
Complete strangers to each other, Jambo and Holly, had put their heads together and concocted this crazy story to surprise me. Boy, did they ever!
Only in this wonderful area in which we live could two people, who'd never met, get together on a moment's notice and pull such a thing off on a poor undeserving principal.
Seems Jambo and Germaine were on their way through town and Mike wanted to stop in to say hi, make sure his buddy was still alive and well.
Golly, we laughed. Our visit was short, but good. I told ol' Jambo that paybacks are hell.
He just laughed, but as we all know, he who laughs last, laughs best.
I can hardly wait until the next time he comes to his camp and finds it's been painted bubblegum pink.
As for Miss Holly... retribution will be mine. I'm just waiting for the right time.
 |
| Miss J's third grade class |
The little blondie shouted at me and screamed at her mother as she tried to pull away.
Mom looked helpless and embarrassed. To make matters worse, Mom had to go to work.
Our kindergarten teacher was on bus duty and assured Mom that everything would be just fine.
Meanwhile, the little screaming, fit-throwing, urchin was in phase two of having a good old-fashioned hissy fit. No amount of calming voice from the kindergarten teacher would work.
The bell rang. It was time for school to begin.
"Let her sit on the bench," I said. "She's mine... all mine. Oh yes, SHE'S MINE."
I told Little Missy that as long as she was throwing a fit, she'd have to sit on the bench, all day if need be, by herself. I then got up to walk in the front door.
Missy wasn't going to let me have the last word. She took off her shoes and threw them at me.
I have a fairly long fuse, but it had been burned at both ends by week's end. I calmly picked up the shoes and tucked them in my pockets.
Out maneuvered, Missy took off her pink Barbi backpack and threw that at me. I repeated my earlier actions, strapping it over one shoulder.
I was within hitting range. Why not throw a five year old round house at the mean old principal?
My LaMaze training, that which I slept through with the boys' mother over forty years ago, took over.
"Take a big breath, Tom. In/out/in/out... cleansing breath... get a focal point. Concentrate. Go to that happy place on Pentoga Road. Let the pain subside and breathe out. In/out/in... exhale slowly."
I turned and winked at Little Missy and went inside the school, leaving her all alone.
What? No one to throw a fit for? All alone in front of the school? Why, there could be fire breathing lions and tigers and bears, OH MY!
After two minutes of screaming and pretend crying, it finally dawned on Missy that she'd buried herself in a deep deep in a hole. Watching through a window just feet away, I felt no small amount of satisfaction along with compassion. Completely defeated and broken, she wanted her mommy, her daddy, anyone.
I let her stew for a minute or two before magically appearing. This time she was ready to listen. She asked if she could please go to school. Could she please have her shoes and book bag back?
In time, all her wishes came true, including getting to apologize to her classroom teacher and to me.
I checked in on her later in the day and was greeted at the door with a huge hug and smile. In fact, I'd venture to say we might just well be BFF's.
Just as with the opening picture, sometimes the best lessons learned at school aren't in the classroom, but on an outside bench where there could be lions and tigers and bears, OH MY!
I walked out of school last night thankful that it was Friday. Sargie had attended a funeral earlier in the day and was babysitting her great niece, Aria, at Sasha and Alex's. After, she and sister, Nancy, stopped at a local restaurant for a fish fry.
I arrived home, changed into comfortable clothes and managed to put most the covering on the west side of the garden house.
 |
| Whoops. While using the wheel barrow on which to cut a 4x8 sheet of particle board, I accidentally sawed off a corner underneath. |
I'm looking forward to going back to occasionally substitute teaching in Bobkittyland. You know, a couple of times a week, spreading the love and some knowledge here and there, getting a few hugs from the munchkins, and letting someone else steer the ship through the choppy waters of education.
I'm more than happy to be a crew member.
That being said, it's time to get out to the garden house, NOT SHE SHED, PEOPLE, and try to get it enclosed yet this weekend. I'm even hopeful that the permanent siding can be put on at some point before snowfall.
Then there's firewood to put up and all those things we do before snow flies.
Oh Lord, I don't even want to think about it... or do I? Yup, I do. All that beats carrying a potty laden munchkin with a very full bladder under one arm down the halls of learning.
After all, a man's work is never done.
So are the tales from Pentoga Road...
No comments:
Post a Comment