Do you love school pictures, or what?? Parents send little Johnny or Janie out the door on the day of pictures, dressed to the teeth, every errant hair held in place with some sort of goo or spray. Their little Cars or Tinker Bell backpacks contain the prerequisite order form with the DE-luxe package box checked, which includes twelve 8x10 photos, and 300 wallets. The scam is, that four minutes into the bus ride, your child has a snot drip on his new white polo shirt, and he decided to shove his stocking cap on his heavily moussed head, creating a riot of hair sticking up in every direction, like his hair is trying to jettison into the atmosphere. When he gets to school, he will inform his teacher that “mom says don’t comb his hair before pictures” and his $89 package will feature a snotty white polo shirt and really bad hair. The best part is, the photographer with only take one shot, so mom and dad, you get what you get… SUCKA’!!!
Better than the ridiculous prices for really bad pictures, are the ridiculous poses that the photographer puts the photographee through (yes, Spell Check, I am quite AWARE that photographee is not a real word. Deal with it!!) You walk up to the preplaced “feet” on the floor in front of the backdrop – no guessing about where you are to stand – paste on your best fake smile, and wait for the agony to be over. Is that good enough? Oh my, no. Your physical therapy session is about to begin. “OK, just drop your left shoulder a wee bit. Yeah, like that. Now raise your chin and point it due north while leaning your torso at a ninety degree angle. There, yes, just like that! OK, now take your right shoulder and shrug it until it is nearly touching your ear and purse your lips together like you just sucked a lemon. Yeesssss… that looks so natural!” (Click). Next!
All my eight little darlings did just as they were told and took the dearest, darlingest school pictures in the history of first grade classes, I am just sure of it. Precious and adorable. Now it was my turn. Being the genius I am and having spent a great deal of time with sheep in a former life, I followed my six-year-olds to the red feet pasted to the floor. I placed my brown suede boots with the fabulous gold zipper on back on the red feet, flashed my best fake smile, and waited for the flash. Now the calisthenics began … left shoulder down, slide your hands down your hips a bit (so SULTRY), blah, blah, blah…
I suddenly stopped, took my hands off my sultry hips, and announced firmly, “I cannot work in these conditions. I need music! I need a fan! I am a professional, after all!” Turning to the superintendent, who was in line behind me waiting to place his feet on the fake red feet, I said, “You. Go find those items for me!” This next part is just priceless… without missing a beat, he walks over and stands in front of me, then using the envelope he held in his hand, he begins to wave it in front of my face. I had my fan. The effect was stunning I have no doubt. I love it when others are silly with me.
I’m pretty sure I single-handedly messed up the school web site yesterday. Our students were dismissed after lunch recess so that we teachers could spend the afternoon in an in-service (code for What’s The Point?) meeting. Part of the magic of the afternoon was training on how to get our individual class web page up and running. I listened carefully and took copious notes. Yep, yep, yep... I’ve got it. I logged on last evening in order to at least get a start on the thing, and managed to put something together to give online visitors a taste of what our class is like. I even added pictures. “Not too bad, Mrs. Dahl (I am thinking). When I was done and had it posted to the site, I realized that all of my information had been posted to the school’s home page. Whaaaattt?? How in the world…?? I pressed keys and clicked on icons and links trying to undo my mistake. Nothing. I fired off a flare to the school techie, but for a time, Mrs. Dahl’s first grade web page hogged the home page for the entire school. Visitors to the sight must have thought me such an attention seeker. Well, for goodness sakes! I would have had you check it out before it got fixed so you could share my idiocy, but this morning when I logged on, all was well. I guess the web page fairy worked its magic throughout the night, seeking out digital dummies like me and waving its magic wand where necessary.
On a different note, our class pet, Chicken On Sale, continues to garner attention, affection, and notoriety. His froggy star is most definitely on the rise. I walk into my classroom in the mornings now and find anonymous gifts of plastic baggies filled with dead flies. The bugs pour in like offerings to the Amphibian gods. The biggest smile-maker of the week happened on Monday. Our 5th and 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Fox, suddenly appeared in our doorway – in the middle of class, no less. This is unusual for several reasons. During our morning reading and math block times, our rooms are in virtual lock-down. I nearly expect to hear the words barked, "stand back!" and see bars to lock in to place once we are all inside. Nobody leaves their classroom unless you get an emergency call stating your house is on fire, a loved one has been abducted, or you really have to use the bathroom. The other reason it is rare to see Mrs. Fox standing in my room in the middle of the day is, my room is in the school dungeon. It is not on the way to anywhere. Kind of like the state of North Dakota. You don’t happen to pass through. You are there because you intended to be.
So when I saw her smiling face I was immediately intrigued by her presence. “Mrs. Fox!’ I said delightedly. “How can I help you?’ Holding her right hand up for inspection she offered with self-pleasure, “I have a fly. I have a LIVE fly.” OOOooohhhh. A live fly is a rare treat for poor, captive Chicken On Sale. He will be luuuuvvvvin’ THAT! With pomp and circumstance my entire class ushered our goddess of Good Eats to the new digs of Chicken On Sale (a huge plastic pretzel tub from Sam’s Club), and ceremoniously dropped the still-buzzing, doomed fly into COS’ habitat. We thanked her profusely, and with that, she was gone. She told me later that when she arrived back in her class, all her 5th and 6th grade students were standing at the door waiting for a detailed account of how well received their corporate gift had been.
Do you just LOVE small, rural schools? Honestly, I feel as though I live in Mayberry. I hear teachers from large cities complain about disrespectful students and worry about crime, and think I must surely work in the greatest environment on the earth. We are a 109 member family that is intertwined in a unique and beautiful way. Of course it is not perfect and there are moments of personality clash and tension. But I will not dwell on those here. Just give me my moment to bask…
I had other smile moments this week too. As the outside temperature drops, the outside critters really want to move indoors. Our room always has a fly or two buzzing around our heads and tickling our arms. We were in the middle of grammar when a particularly loud fly dive-bombed our worktable. One of my students held out his arms in a gesture of attention-getting and warned the others to freeze. As we all listened to The Fly, he dead-panned, “breakfast.” We knew Chicken On Sale’s morning needs had been met. I swear, that little amphibian is getting fatter. A teacher suggested I take a kitchen scale to school and weigh him daily to chart his growth. I sense a science fair project in the making…
My other giggle minute came at the beginning of the day on Tuesday. The children always go outside to play if they arrive before the first bell. As they poured back into the stairwell to hang up jackets, stumble over backpacks, and prepare for the day, I heard a panicked voice I recognized immediately as one of my students. “I’m STUCK!” came the slightly muffled voice from somewhere in the coatroom. I tried to decipher what “stuck” could mean in this circumstance. Zipper won’t go down on his jacket? Head between the railings on the stairs? Shoe attached to bubble gum that had been left on the floor? Now the little voice is growing frustrated. “Every….time… I…try….” Panic is setting in. What in the world? I better investigate.
As I head out the door to do a search-and-rescue, he walks in. I smiled when I saw his dilemma. SOMEHOW (and please do not even try to guess. You will hurt your brain), he had placed the sleeve of his jacket on the mouse sticky trap that had been shoved in the corner behind the door. Our frog/mouse/snake/salamander infestation was being attacked with everything we have in the school arsenal. Somehow the custodial staff had managed to catch a six-year-old. Those babies are sticky!! The aide who had been on playground duty stepped in to try and free him as well. Every time we got a piece of his jacket loosened from its death-grip, another part of the sleeve would get sucked in. It was a comedy of errors. Now the aide was stuck too. You know me well enough by now to know that that sort of scenario gives me the giggles. How ridiculous it was! FINALLY, he was free and no longer had to worry about being left in the corner of the coatroom, left to waste away to skin and bones on a sticky mousetrap. F-R-E-E!
It is now Thursday and I am home for the day. Instead of washing my windows and taking screens out for the winter, I am typing this tale. Well, my friend, that must change.
More later….
Sincerely,
Mrs. Dahl
First Grade Teacher
Frog Feeder
Sticky Trap Emancipator
Super Model
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