My job is fantastic. I love working with little kids, but sometimes, my brain threatens explosion with some of the things that happen. I went in yesterday fully anticipating another fairly normal day, when I was informed that we were doing the store instead of classes, which entailed the kids being able to spend their points they had acquired during the year for being obedient and doing their homework. The kids were running around in excitement, and we were hurrying to get everything together, including making pieces of paper with the amount of points each item would cost. I laughed when I saw a stack of preschool workbooks, and asked Mitch who he was planning to purchase those. He shrugged and said to keep the cost of them low.
The kids were running around still, requesting snack and we had to remind them a few times more than usual to keep their hands to themselves. One of the kids approached me and told me one of the girls was crying on the stage. I went to comfort her and she told me she had swimmer's ear, and that her ear was killing her. I was prone to a lot of ear aches in my day, so I had immediate empathy and made it a priority to get her a cell phone to call her parents so she could go home. Just then, two of the little hispanic girls came up to me and in broken english, showed me a hand full of transparent tiny balls, and started joking about how they had each convinced the other to eat one. I looked at the little balls closely and knew exactly what they were. Those little silicone gel packets you get in new purses, shoes, or anything else, should really say "DO NOT EAT" in Spanish, too. I grabbed Mitch and told him what had happened. His eyes widened and he asked, "Are they okay?" I wasn't sure, since it sounded like they had just eaten them, and so he sent them to the water fountain to drink as much water as they could.
That crisis down and the swimmer's ear girl's parents contacted, I thought we had met the quota for insanity. Just then, a kid ran into the gym and told me that one of the older kids had sniffed some Mexican candy (a lot like pixie sticks) and his nose started bleeding. Fantastic, I thought, and then it was topped off with him telling me the kid was also vomitting in the bathroom. Grateful not to be a male, I grabbed Mitch and had him investigate. Hopefully that little experience will teach the kids that pretending to sniff cocaine is almost as painful as doing the actual thing.
Then came the auction, and there were lots of tears. LOTS of tears. I felt pooped and ready for a nap. I was ready to write the day off as a yuck fest when up came Christian. Christian is kind of a superhero. He's one of the older kids, and a year ago, he knew very little english. Now, the only indications there are that english isn't his first language is a slight accent, and the occasional question of how to say certain words. His little sister (one of the gel ball eaters) is one of the youngest in the group. Christian is one of the better athletes, and during games with partners, everyone wants to be with him, but he always picks his sister to be his partner. In a big game, if she gets hurt, he immediately takes her aside to take care of her. He's pretty much amazing. So it shouldn't have surprised me when he picked up several of the preschool workbooks and asked me how much they cost. I laughed and asked him what he was going to do with all of those, and he said, "I'm going to give them to my cousins." He then picked up a couple "Over the Hedge" books, and said those were for his older cousins. He was spending all of his points on everyone but himself. I had to convince him to buy something for himself, and even then, it seemed like he was doing it to make me happy.
Christian is only 10 years old, and he's my hero. If I knew all of my kids were going to be just like him, I wouldn't be so anti-baby.
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