Teacher, Teacher

My refridgerater is now covered with pictures from Keri*. One depicts me on an airplane heading to Florida to go to Disneyland. The others are simply holepunched to look like Swiss Cheese with happy faces. According to five-year-old logic, since Keri and I exchanged scraps of paper with our names written in thick purple marker, we are friends now. After she got ahold of my paper, she ran to her locker to put away her prize. When I was walking out, I saw her showing her dad all her pictures and "friends".

One child was quite frustrated I was not driving the van fast enough to his liking. After informing me I was ten under the speed limit, he then proceeded to tell me all about snakes. By the time I pulled up, I had heard all about a boa constrictor swallowing a live rat. He was delighted. I was nauseous.

I got to work in the art room, and was delighted. It was exciting helping the children with their art work. I traced kites, drew ladybugs (which became a frenzy), and made a stencil of a pumpkin. Several children, when I began complimenting the pumpkin artists, raced to show me their papers. Covered in stamps, hole punched, and decorated with scrawled ghosts and vampires, their beaming faces looked up at me. "Teacher!" they shouted. "Isn't it good? Don't you like it?"

"I love it," I assured them, and would point out a few features I liked. Proud, they raced to their lockers to show their parents. I listened to boys chatter about snakes ( there was a cobra in the backyard, don't you see- green and black spotted) and one boy announce that at 6 he was too old for birthday hugs. He still looked pleased when he received one.

They were a welcome relief to the fifth graders. The "cool" kids ran wild while I went hoarse yelling at them. After confiscating a bottle of Febreze from a girl who was trying to freshen another girls "butt", I was pretty annoyed.

Then I felt a little tug on my hand. A small girl stood there with her lip puckered. She thrust a scraped finger in my hand.

"I hurt my finger," she pouted.

"I see that," I said. "Do you want a band aid?"

"No," she said.

"Do you want a kiss to make it better?"

"No."

"Want a pat on the head?"

"No."

"What do you want?"

"No."


In other news, my birthday's in a few days. As we know, it's all about me. And I know what my husband is getting me. I am very excited!