Today, two new students started at my school. They are not in the same grade and they do not go home to the same address.
And they have left us wondering how in the heck Charles Manson got conjugal visits with fertile women.
They make Barbie Stickers seem like, well, a doll.
Child number one stripped down to just his pants (no socks, shoes, shirt or jacket) and then ran. His mother says he is adjusting to our school. My dad was in the military and I changed schools several times. This may explain my predisposition for stripping.
Child number two just talked out of his head about flying around the school. And there were lots of grunts and groans. We called the last school and they were working to get a copy of the psychological that was completed on him after he jumped out of a window. Apparently, he often acts out scenes from various movies. The flying talk clearly suggests he is involved in a Spiderman scene (I swear that is what the counselor told me). We hear his Indiana Jones scenes are not to be missed.
In addition to trying to settle down the new kids, one mother got upset with me because I had her daughter call her about the checks she stole from home. I now know my place and won't bother this mother again with concerns about her daughter's future. Or the future of her money that may be vamoosed if the wrong person (besides her daughter) gets their hands on her random personal checks floating around.
Just when I was feeling a bit frustrated with the stress (and it was stressful today for some reason), I ran into my friend's son. Mr. Brilliant is a happy go lucky kid who seems to know far more than the average 6 year old. Since his mother's cancer diagnosis, I've given them a lot more attention. Today, he gave me attention.
Mr. Brilliant: Hey. I've been thinking about how you could help my mom. (I love the honesty of children.)
Me: Really. What can I do?
Mr. Brilliant: Well, she is going to start chemotherapy next week and two weeks after that she is going to lose her hair. I think you should get her some hats. My mom would really like that.
And suddenly, Charles Manson's love children and the angry parents didn't seem to matter so much.
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12 comments:
Ack.
I hear you on the barometric pressure. It makes a difference.
Mr. Brilliant is wise beyond his years. Thank you for sharing.
And those other kids (and parents)? All give us wicked job security! :-) Have a good evening, Beth.
Mr. Billiant is so sweet. And the new kids? If nothing else, they sound like an endless supply of blog fodder.
Out of the mouths of babes...
I think we had two of Charles Manson's kids in our center last night.
When one was told her foster mom was coming to get her, and she couldn't stay the night, so broke her glasses and started using the arms to scrape her arms. Awesome.
The new kids sound like they could bring some national news coverage your way.
To be continued...
So far so good. I'd like to watch those Indiana Jones scenes.
Amazing how something so simple as buying a hat can put things into perspective. Gotta love kids.
Kris
oh, mr. brilliant... what a sweetie.
ok, the line about the indiana jones scenes is priceless. have i mentioned before that you must have the patience of job?
Ugh, I just watched a Charles Manson special on the history channel today, I'm fairly certain I would not like his kids but hat kid can have my entire hat collection!
when i first moved to georgia, i had a first grade classroom. one day, i got this new kid and he was weird and bizarre and very difficult. aaaaall day long. then, at the end of the day, right before he was to hop on his bus and go home? he pulls me aside and lets me know his name isn't really XX, it's penis dick, because that's what his uncle calls him. and when he's 18, he's going to drive a motorcycle off the edge of a cliff and kill himself.
wow. i was 26, a mere 3rd year teacher, and i'd never had to deal with children who had family members who nicknamed them penis dick. and so i expressed outrage at the uncle, sympathy for XX, and then insisted he stay away from motorcycles, like forever. and then he got on the bus.
leaving that day, i casually mentioned to our counselor (who was ass crazy herself, but that's another story) what XX had told me. she flipped out on me--huh. who knew we were to KEEP the suicidal 7 year olds at school? not me.
later, XX was diagnosed schizophrenic. but not until i'd gotten to teach him untreated and unmedicated for the rest of the school year, and not until after he'd shared many other disturbing stories about his uncle (who may have been one of charlie's kids himself).
also, i think you should by your friend a hat that looks just like springtime. and get mr. brilliant a nice hat, too. he sounds awesome.
Hey Amy - having worked with many schizophrenic kids, I say that you gave him the best advice possible. :-)
Hi Beth! Thanks for stopping by The Jason Show and commenting today. I'm so happy to see a principal that has a blog. The stories you could tell! And you do!
This one is so touching. This poor kid. I know you'll be there for him.
I will see you around!
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