When she was very young, my daughter once said, in her best witch voice, "Bubble, bubble, toilet trouble." Wow! I could have said that twenty times today.
Trashing the restrooms is the latest sport among the tots these days. From water, soap, and towels all over the floor to using the urinal for the wrong function, the facilities have been taking a beating lately. Yesterday, the boys made me come in--GAG--to look at a four letter word referring to the male genitalia written on the wall. As bad as that boys room stinks, I can't imagine anyone staying in there long enough to practice his penmanship. Silver lining--the word was spelled correctly.
In response to the vandalism, the restroom procedure had to change. NO ONE IS TO GO TO THE RESTROOM EXCEPT DURING A WHOLE CLASS BREAK--unless it is a dire emergency. Problem is EVERYTHING in third grade is a dire emergency.
I am a rule follower.
The PA system had not even been clicked off after morning announcements when the golden child needs to "use it." "No, sweetie," says I. "No one can go to the restroom by themselves. You'll have to wait until we have our break." Pitiful facial expression follows. "I'm sorry," I tell her. Stomp, stomp, stomp back to her desk. Pout, pout, pout for the next ten minutes.
Ten minutes later, "Can I go to the bathroom? It's an emergency," he says. I refrain from reminding him that there is no bath tub in there, and instead say,"I'm sorry. You have to wait until our break. We'll go in 15 minutes." He says, "I'm gonna use it on myself. Really, it's coming." Ewwwww!
I am a rule follower, but I prefer not to have urine on my classroom rug.
So I count, "One, stand up. Two, push in your chairs. Three, slowly and safely, line up."
Should have checked the hall first. Half of the kids have filed out of the room when I discover that one of the first grade classes is just getting to the restroom. And, the substitute next door is taking her group on an unscheduled break. Turning the line around to go back into the classroom, I hear a chant in my head above the moans and groans--bubble, bubble, toilet trouble.
Seriously. You wouldn't get it. It's a third grade thing.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
Monday Mayhem
The day started off well enough. I got through all four reading groups first thing this morning. Switched up the time. Usually do reading in afternoon, but thought I'd change it up since I've been having trouble seeing everyone as often as I'd like. I even got to work one-on-one with a couple of kiddos. But then, they ate lunch.
What happens in that cafeteria and out on the playground that sets them off?
When I step outside to pick them up, I'm amazed by the unseasonably warm, breezy weather. Surely they have enjoyed the time outside. Yet it seems that they have not.
Two of the boys are engaged in a mean-spirited tug of war over the equipment bag. One has fallen and scraped the skin off of his elbow and pulls the newly placed band-aid off the wound for me to see. Another runs by me to be the first to get to the door so that he can hold it open. Dang near knocked me over in the process. Three beautiful little girls are pushing and shoving to get a place in line even though they know we have a "line order." One young man complains he didn't get to a turn to kick during the kickball game. Someone else is telling me I better get "so and so" because "they talkin' 'bout my momma." And there goes my favorite child trying to sneak off behind the gym. (He's mad about being told to let go of the equipment bag.)
We finally get settled enough to go into the building.
We're almost to the classroom, and I hear my favorite yelling at some other kid in another class. He's clear down the hallway. I walk back down a ways and tell him to join us. He screams at me, "NO!" Okay. Well, I direct him to the office. He screams at me again, "NO!" I actually chuckle a bit. This is a kid who needs me to give him a hug when he gets there in the morning and one before he goes home in the afternoon. I try it one more time. I swear he screamed at me even louder, "NO!"
Giving up and using the "planned ignoring" strategy, I turn around to join my class again. To my great surprise, the are standing perfectly still and quiet. There eyes are wide with shock. Nobody screams at THEIR teacher.
Seriously. You wouldn't get it. It's a third grade thing.
What happens in that cafeteria and out on the playground that sets them off?
When I step outside to pick them up, I'm amazed by the unseasonably warm, breezy weather. Surely they have enjoyed the time outside. Yet it seems that they have not.
Two of the boys are engaged in a mean-spirited tug of war over the equipment bag. One has fallen and scraped the skin off of his elbow and pulls the newly placed band-aid off the wound for me to see. Another runs by me to be the first to get to the door so that he can hold it open. Dang near knocked me over in the process. Three beautiful little girls are pushing and shoving to get a place in line even though they know we have a "line order." One young man complains he didn't get to a turn to kick during the kickball game. Someone else is telling me I better get "so and so" because "they talkin' 'bout my momma." And there goes my favorite child trying to sneak off behind the gym. (He's mad about being told to let go of the equipment bag.)
We finally get settled enough to go into the building.
We're almost to the classroom, and I hear my favorite yelling at some other kid in another class. He's clear down the hallway. I walk back down a ways and tell him to join us. He screams at me, "NO!" Okay. Well, I direct him to the office. He screams at me again, "NO!" I actually chuckle a bit. This is a kid who needs me to give him a hug when he gets there in the morning and one before he goes home in the afternoon. I try it one more time. I swear he screamed at me even louder, "NO!"
Giving up and using the "planned ignoring" strategy, I turn around to join my class again. To my great surprise, the are standing perfectly still and quiet. There eyes are wide with shock. Nobody screams at THEIR teacher.
Seriously. You wouldn't get it. It's a third grade thing.
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