Crazy Fridays

By the time Friday has arrived to an elementary school, adults are done. When I worked in the "real world", on Friday, they were done too. So they left early. You can't leave early in an Elementary School or there would be 425 kids all alone at school. So on Fridays, we have "Fun Friday" which consists of lots of movies and recesses, and starts some time after lunch when normal people would be clocking out.

By the time Friday has arrive to an elementary school, the students are done. They want to clock out early too. But if they did, you would have 20 staff members without a job. So on Fridays, they think of new ways to start trouble, tell stories, and cause chaos. Some of them do such terrible things, they can't go to Fun Friday.

We have Fun Friday's because the kids are crazy, the kids who are crazy can't go to Fun Friday, it's the Circle Of Life.

Principal For The Day

Somewhere in the annals of history, there is a rule written something like this: "If thy principal is gone for thee day and no assistant principal existith to compensate, thy school principal shall make the calls". It was my turn yesterday. It was also a Crazy Friday.

I spent the majority of the morning wrangling with one uppers, juvie jailers, and kiddos that would have preferred to take a 4 day weekend. By 10:05, I was spent. Following a 6 minute lunch and numerous little headaches in the hallways, I made my way back down to the principal's office where Hermando was. Hermando, a 9 year old 3rd grader was sent to the office for angrily squeezing some poor little girls arm. Also in the office was Steve, a first grade boy who was awaiting pickup -- his behavior was sending him home early.

So, on we went with the principal spiel, "What did you do?", etc. As Hermando and I interacted, little Steve watched very intently (why couldn't Steve had just sit like this instead of sliding down banisters?). "Hermando", I said exhaustively, "Do you know what it's called when you hurt another person? "No." Well Hermando, that's called assault."

That's when Steve, who's pickup had just arrived, raised his hand and gave the most accurate answer of his day: "Hermando, it's ASSAULT, not like salt in a salt shaker" Then he left. 

... all I could down is throw my hands up, laugh, and think about the annals of history. 

Han Solo

Sometimes (many times) when you have spent the entire day dealing with one uppers, deflecting talk about Juvie Jail, and using the "Germ Defense", you tend to become a bit (a lot) un-relaxed, prone to frustration, and just ready to cut to the point of any interaction. Other times, you become silly, flighty, or sarcastic. Either way, by the end of a rough day (hour), adult conversation can become a difficult thing. Often, during these points, I find myself making a lot of body noises, grunts, and hand motions to interact with other adults in my attempt to communicate successfully. Sometimes, I even turn into Han Solo.

Near the end of one recent day, a parent came in to talk with the counselor. I could tell that the parent was very nervous about how the proceeding conversation was going to be and the details that she was going to have to divulge. Seeing this hesitation and ready to move on with the conversation, I immediately threw my hands up into the air and said (like the scoundrel I am) "Don't worry lady, I've seen it all".

Yep, that's me. 28 years old. 5-8. Han Solo Educator. Seen. It. All.

#Facepalm

Spring Break.

Ah. Spring Break. A time of winsome adventure for students and a time to relax and recharge for teachers. Unless you're a tax-paying adult.

I am spending my hard-earned free time and my hard-earned cash on the couch, recuperating from having all of my wisdom teeth taken from me. The most enjoyment that I am getting out of Spring Break is the laughing gas that the dentist gave me. Even that cost $$$. I am paying to spend all of my time off in bed.

Be careful one-upping first graders, I've got something for you during Show & Tell: 4 adult-sized wisdom teeth in a bag.

Juvie Jail

Occasionally within the elementary world, the words "Juvenile" and "Hall" will sporadically pop-up in conversation. You might be roaming the hallways near the boy's bathroom and hear a second grade boy claim in a cutthroat, matter-of-fact manner"Yea, I've been to juvenile" or overhear a third grade girl make threats to have another girl "sent there" for some unjust act. Essentially, the mention of Juvenile Confinement is a rite-of-passage amongst the elementary students. It's the ultimate cart blanche' (or one-upper) of phrases and if you can claim to have been there - true or not - you have demonstrated yourself to be in the upper crust of survivors.

So far this week, I have had two occasions of Kindergartens (during a lesson on Kindness, no less) mentioning their own contrived experiences at "Juvie Jail". "Can you give the class any survival tips?" I want to ask.