|Curious George and some bejeweled snowflakes|
we made in art class.
Every once in a while we'll have "one of those days" when it feels like a comedy of errors is unfolding before my disbelieving eyes.
Happily, those days seem to usually occur just prior to a vacation which provides ample time for everyone to recover and return to school energized and refreshed.
Yesterday was one of those days.
Picture the scene...I am sitting on the rug with the children. Each student is seated in a large circle working on putting magnetic letters in alphabetical order. I notice one little girl is staring off with an odd expression on her face and holding a tissue to her mouth. I ask her if she is okay and it is then that I notice that she has thrown up a bit. Her mouth is closed and her eyes are wide. It seems she is afraid to move. We help her over to the garbage can where she continues to get sick.
By now all of the other children are gathering around and I feel like the traffic cop from Frosty the Snowman. What did I just witness?
She goes off to the nurse who contacts her mother. However, it takes a while for mom to show up so we bring her back to the classroom where she falls asleep. When her mother arrives she awakens and steps into the small coat closet to retrieve her backpack and coat.
She is taking an awfully long time to get her backpack. I step over to the closet and now it is my turn for the wide eyes and odd expression. She has gotten sick all over the closet. On coats, backpacks, a pair of gloves that were not put away properly (which prompted me later to offer the oft-repeated words of wisdom, "This is why you must put your gloves away! You never know when someone is going to throw up on them!" Isn't that a saying?).
Everything stops. Everyone freezes. She looks at me. I look at her. I give some confusing directions. "Don't move!" "Come here!" "Wait! Hold on!" "Okay, um...okay, let me see." My co teacher Michelle calls the custodian but in the meanwhile I am trying to clean up this poor child. I ended up cutting off her outer shirt because it wouldn't go over her head without making a bigger mess.
While I am doing this our custodian appears, assesses the situation, dry heaves and tells me "I can't clean that!" We both laugh. That laugh when nothing is really funny but laughter is the best option.
In the midst of this the boy with the soiled gloves starts crying because we had to throw them out. The girl whose coat was splattered is crying because now she can't go outside during recess (we called her mom and worked it out). Another girl--whose stuff was not affected--starts to cry also and a few girls begin to shout that she is only fake crying.
Michelle is busy spraying Lysol, bagging up clothes and changing garbage bags.
Finally the mom, who was no help whatsoever, takes her daughter home.
The afternoon was smooth by comparison.
Get well soon little one!