Scaring My Sister

This is going to be a pretty short post, but it made me laugh so hard, I had to share it with my adoring followers...yeah, all how many of you?

Anyway, today at the very end of the school day, I look up and see G all hunched over and coming my way with a very, very, very small piece of paper between his thumbs and forefingers. He's obviously got something he wants to show me, because while hunching over carefully to protect his treasure his GPS is definitely directed my way.

G arrives at my feet and says, "LOOOOOKKKK!!!! MS. NERDY MIMI!!!!!!!!!" (yeah, in a voice that could break the sound barrier)..."you can use this to SCARE your SISTER!" I look at him, confused and say, "what????"

G takes a deep breath, rolls his eyes as if I am deaf and dumb too, and says, "Do you HAVE a sister?" To which I reply, "Yes, and most of the time I like them."

G laughs and says, "Well, then you need to take this bug (very small, about the size of a head of a pin) and keep it for when you see her, then you can use it to SCARE her."

Me..."OH....that is SO COOL! And YOU GOT IT." I took the bug, admired it's fantastic beauty in spite of it's small size and fantasized about putting it in the bottom of my sister's (one or other) water glass after Christmas dinner....or just planting on top of her pile of mashed potatoes when she wasn't looking....maybe scratching her head a little and going, "This was in your hair..."

O.K. maybe I got carried away, but G was happy and I was smiling, it IS fun after all, to scare your sister...just ask Tator Tot and Felicity....they have SO many stories to tell.

I'm going back to first grade, I'm pretty sure I belong there.

Piles of (no other way to say it) Snot!

So, Friday I was walking from the front of the room back to my small work station. Unlike most teachers, I don't have desk. I find it to be too likely a place to pile things, so I put my computer on a small cart, and sit in a bar stool type chair when I have any split seconds to work there. It's not like I have to worry about sitting long, because it seems that my constant attention is needed throughout the school day, and if I don't see a hand up, there will be a hand tapping my leg to get my attention.

Anyway, back to walking....to the work station...looked down...saw something on the floor that looked an awful lot like a pile of snot, or perhaps we should call it a puddle of snot....sort of slimy, greenish in tint, and downright gross!

I look around, and see that no one is blowing his/her nose nearby, and I can't remember who the last sneezer was, so I say, "UH....boys and girls, did anyone sneeze back here just now?" J raises his hand and said, "Yeah, I did, and some of it feel on the floor." Me, "Did you think about wiping it up?" J..."NO, are you kidding that is just gwoss (he doesn't pronounce his r's)." Me, "But it's O.K. for me to wipe it up, even though it came out of your nose?" J.."Sure, youw'e a grwownup, it's not supposed to gwoss you out."

So, the issue here was that it was his snot, he was willing to admit that, and that he'd left it on the floor without telling anyone, because he was sure a grownup would clean it up. Being that I'm the only grownup in the room at this time, I would be the one to do that....at least to his way of thinking.

By the time we got to this point the crowd was beginning to gather. I told them not to get too close and step in it, that would make it worse, and that it really wasn't all that interesting anyway. Here's the conversation that followed.."J, how did that much stuff come out of your nose and you didn't get it in a kleenex?" J..."The kleenex was alweady full." Everyone else..."Ewwww." J...."Well, I had a lot in thewe, it's not like I planned to blow snot on the floow." Everyone else..."Ewwwww."

Me, stepping in..."here, take one of these Oxy wipes and clean it up." J.."I didn't get it all, can I have another one." Tiny Girl.."Wait, don't throw that away, I didn't get to see it." J..."Here, it's kinda gwoss." TG..."Oh...coooooool, and it's green!" Me..."Here's the other wipe, J, just clean it up." TG.."J, can I do it?" J..."sure TG!" Me..."No, it's your snot, you're cleaning it up." TG, "I only wish I had that much snot..."

Floor cleaned....complaints of "Man..I didn't' get to see it," abound. J has a clean nose, I have a clean floor, and TG is working on snot manufacturing as I write! I will never be the same again!

What is Mean Anyway?

I've been pondering the mean question for awhile...I mean it's not like I don't recognize mean people or even (as the bumper sticker points out) know that "mean people suck." I know how to be mean and people have been mean to me, but when this Nerdy Mimi is teaching first grade, mean takes on a whole new meaning!

This week we were discussing mean as it relates to being truthful. Example, "Why is it mean when I'm just telling the truth, her breath is REALLY BAD!" I think about it a minute and respond, "Well, you could, just maybe, move back a step or two, then you wouldn't smell her breath, which would make it so that you don't have to tell her it's really bad." Little Blonde Girl says, "Oh, so just pretend that I don't notice or get out of range, so that I can't smell the sewer?" What do you respond to that? Well, me with all my wisdom, decided that sarcasm would work and simply said, "Now you've got it!" Which made Blondie happy, but affirmed for Little Red Head that her breath really was unpleasant. So she kept her blowing on the palm of her hand and trying to see if it really smelled all that bad. After a couple of tries, Red head says, "You know Ms. NM, Blondie is right, it is pretty much sewer-ish." Now one would think that would be it, but of course Blondie was affirmed in a serious way and said, "Yeah, and how is it mean that I said it, but now that she realizes what I said was true, it seems I did her a favor?"

I swear, these are first graders....I have NO idea who is raising them, but I think it might be Jon Stewart/Glenn Beck/Spongebob Squarepants, because their logic defies...you got it...logic!

Next day, same Blondie....Little Freckled Boy says, "Blondie is mean, she's just mean and she doesn't even care if she's mean." Blondie, "LFB I DO care if I'm mean, but how is it mean to tell you the truth?" LFB, "You called me stupid, that's mean." Blondie, "Well you ARE stupid..."

I begin intervening, explaining that no one is really stupid, and we really should not call each other names. I explain the idea that Blondie truly knows the "truth" about who is smart and who is not is just not possible, so it would be best to keep those sorts of judgements out of their friendship. Blondie responds by saying, "Well, I won't say it any more, but you can't consider this a friendship, after all I don't make friend with stupid people."

Here is where I sigh, looks heavenward, take a deep breath, pat them both on the head and says, "Hey, let's get out our craft sticks and do some math." At least popsicle sticks don't talk back....and math is always logical, just ask my math teacher father and sister. Who knew that someday, rather than converse about levels of stupidity, I'd call on math to ease my crisis.