Oh Sh#*!

We are in deep sh#* here!



The child weights about 25 pounds, the diaper about 15. This is never what you want to see when a child comes waddling over to circle time after a short period of free play. Ironically, we had just checked the child's diaper not more than fifteen minutes before this blow out. I did not know whether to run screaming or to bow before one of such awesome power. In the end it was one un-holy sh#* and one huge mess. You can only do so much with baby wipes.

Penicillian?

This is proof that I am greatly limited in my domestic skills and that it is a great testimony to the power of modern technology- the telephone and the microwave - that I am able to feed myself.




I was actually rather proud to discover this on top of my refridgerator over a month after I purchased the loaf of bread. I figure it takes some level of skill to grow something this absolutely nasty. Who knows though, perhaps I have discovered a new breed of antibiotics....or a new fungus that will slowly take over the world. I think I will name it Heinrich and keep him as my pet. He's kind of cute....

Huh?

Today I went to see Shrek the Third because I am a big huge dork and because I had a chance to go with a friend. A side note on the movie was that it was cute, but should have been released straight to DVD and I think they have beaten just about all of the money out of this trick pony. Anyway, before sitting through 30 minutes of previews and then the movie while drinking the world's most expensive frozen Coke I decided to visit the bathroom. I overheard the following conversation between a mother and child and had to work very hard not to laugh until after they left.

Mother: Untwist your panties.
Child: Huh?
Mother: Your panties are all twisted. Untwist them please.
::Pause::
Mother: Annie! Get Off the floor NOW! That is nasty! And your panties are still twisted!
Child: And That's What It's All About! (Claps hands)

The discussion of twisted panties and not laying on the bathroom floor continued for another minute or so as I choked down laughter. Apparently at the age of four or so this child had decided that twisted panties, dirty floors, and being nasty - that's what it's all about. Sad thing is that by high school or college, she may not be far off.

You Know When

You Know You are a Preschool Special Education Teacher When:

* You hear a child gagging and instantly reach out to try to catch it without thinking.
* Your class list consists of batteries, Purell, baby wipes, Clorox wipes, Kleenex, one notebook, diapers, and goldfish crackers.
* You carry the school menu on your clothing.
* You ask the children to come to the table for lunch and get no response, but you gently shake a box of goldfish crackers or bag of popcorn and they trip over each other to get to the table.
* You forget that it is normal for three and four year olds to talk...a lot.
* You have the following conversation
Teacher: I think that little girl is throwing up!
You: Her? Um (quick look) Oh, nope. She's just having a seizure. She'll be fine in a minute.
* You could probably make anything out of glue, paper bags, craft sticks, contruction paper, and paint.
* You know where every fire alarm is in the entire school building.
* You least favorite words include "all school assembly", "fire drill", and "he is on antibiotics so he should be fine".
* You can change eight diapers in under fifteen minutes, including time to change gloves and wash hands.
* Your bedtime is probably earlier than the kids you teach.

Excuses, Excuses

I just realized that the last time I wrote anything was in March. It is now May. What happened to April? I have been so busy running around in what seem to be endless circles that I have forgotten to surface every now and then for air. This is apparently the crazy time of year, the time of year when as a teacher you seriously consider if you have mad the correct career choice and start counting the days until the end of the year along with your students (if your students can count), the time of year when you have no time to call your own. I still love my job and my kids and teaching...but some days I could really use a few more hours in the day and a lot more sleep!
I can not believe that I am almost at the end of my first year of teaching. I can not believe that I made it through this year. It was harder than I expected, better than I expected, more frustrating than I expected, more rewarding than I expected, more work than I expected, more fun than I expected, more of everything than I expected. It is unclear who learned more, the children or myself. There is no way that I can say that I am now a great and wonderful teacher, that I know everything I need to know, that I will never make a mistake. I will learn just as much next year as I learned this year, perhaps more, and I love that about this job. each day I pray that I can meet the needs of my students, that I can offer them everything that they need, and that I can be better than I was the day before. I am learning that I will never be perfect and that being damaged is beautiful. Imperfection is not the same as unacceptable.
This may not make sense, but I am just writing from my heart instead of from my brain. It also does not help any that it is 6:30 am, that I have been up since 5:00am, and that I still have a long day ahead of me. On days like this I give thanks for coffee!!
Just to add to the list of things I never expected to hear myself say:
Chicken is for eating, not for wearing.
He's a BOY, E.! No kissing!! (E. is a boy and was confused about another child being a boy or a girl; Also kissing is not allowed at all but E. generally only tris to kiss the girls)
Pull up your pants, I can see your Elmo. (Elmo being the design on the back of the diaper)
NO! No Touching! It's too cold for a fire drill today!
The baby does not go in the washing machine.
Balls are not for throwing. (Um, really?)
See, that's why you are not allowed to drive until you can see over the wheelchair.

Bits and Pieces

This is an old post that I never finished and now I am trying to recreate. I should know that recreations are never as good as the original but I am stubborn and I also know that I saved the bits and pieces I typed in for a reason...for some vague reason. By this point in the school year (end of May) my memory has gone the same place that all of the proper behavior lessons that I taught my children seem to have gone - a big, all consuming black hole. We have forgotten that the fire alarm is forbidden (ooh, its so red and so shiny..and it has a nice white lever...and it says "Pull"...why does teacher always yell at me when I touch it?), we have forgotten that we walk in a line or even in a controlled mob formation, we have forgotten that it is not funny to take off running away from the playground and towards traffic forcing your sweaty and not graceful teacher to chase you. We have forgotten that it is never appropriate to hit, push, kick, pinch, bite, scratch, punch, spit, shoot snot rockets at, stomp on, cover in mulch, or otherwise assault another person. Basically the next person who tells me that my children are all so sweet and adorable is going to be invited to take them out on the playground for 15 minutes and then report back with their verdict. I think they smell summer, I think they are aware that soon they will be free from such rules and forced labor for two and a half months and they are just barely able to wait. Either that or I am so screwed.
Pulled together from the old post, one of my children has developed a voice that is perfect for horror movies. He has autism and it is not uncommon for children with autism to use different pitches, tones, rates, and prosody when learning language. I am well aware of this. Yet the first time I heard this voice coming from my beautiful, sweet and innocent looking child I was frozen for a moment. I had an Exorcist moment, waiting for his head to spin around or something. It was that completely different and unexpected. I quickly gathered myself and realized that this would most likely be a hinderance to his social interactions with others in the commmunity and in the school. So now every time the "monster" voice comes out I gently touch his lips and remind him to use his big boy voice. However, I can not look at a can of pea soup right now without a quick shiver.
Friday we had what can only be called a mass dumping. Within one 15 minute period we had 3 children produce blow out diapers of record proportions and the other two set new weight records for wet diapers. Of course they all waited until right after we checked their diapers because what fun is there in filling a diaper before it is checked and changed? How did 5 kids coordinate such a mass dumping? Oh, and in that time span one also managed to vomit on the carpet after coughing too hard. Bonus Round! And I wonder why the custodians always come with a mop and a bucket even when we call for someting as simple as papertowel?