Once again I had an audience of Kindergarteners and First Graders in my office. I am always interested to find out if they ate a good breakfast before coming to school. I posed this question to them, "What do you eat for breakfast in the morning?".
"I eat Apperjacks and Cherrios all mixed up."
"Today I had pancakes with white yogurt."
"My Dad made my breakfast fer me. He made me China chicken and rice."
"Bread and grits."
"We had bread and salami with with this green stuff on top."
"I was eating cereal and my booger fell in it."
"I had a samuch with stuff in it. Like soft stuff and I didn't like it."
"A hamburger, it tasted like macaroni and cheese so I opened it up to see and yep, it had cheese in it."
"A burger, and then I threw it up."
"I had a stanwich with pickles. Then I bit it with my teeth and said, OH, WHAT IS THIS?"
"I had a hot fire burrito with chicken and ketshup and it made my mouth very hot. NO MORE OF THEM FER ME!"
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Who's the Boss?
Kindergarten and first graders where in and out of my office all day today. I posed this question to them, "Who is the boss in your house and why?".
"My Dad , cause he has the most money. He bought everything."
"My Dad's the boss.....he's a good boss. He don't say nuthin, he just watches T.V."
"My Dad's the boss because he doesn't know how to cook and he won't learn how cause he said he'll get burnt. He's very smart nurse, ain't he?"
"My Dad's the boss because he's big, very big."
"My Mom is the boss of our house. She bosses my Dad around all day. Once she said, CLEAN THE TOILET!"
"My Mom is bossy. We run when she hollars."
"Actually it's my Mother. She wants everything perfect."
"It ain't me. But I wish it was cause I don't like to do nuthin."
"It's my Mom. She says to my Dad and us, "you clean the room and cook""
"My Mom and Dad are bosses cause they wanna be."
"My Dad , cause he has the most money. He bought everything."
"My Dad's the boss.....he's a good boss. He don't say nuthin, he just watches T.V."
"My Dad's the boss because he doesn't know how to cook and he won't learn how cause he said he'll get burnt. He's very smart nurse, ain't he?"
"My Dad's the boss because he's big, very big."
"My Mom is the boss of our house. She bosses my Dad around all day. Once she said, CLEAN THE TOILET!"
"My Mom is bossy. We run when she hollars."
"Actually it's my Mother. She wants everything perfect."
"It ain't me. But I wish it was cause I don't like to do nuthin."
"It's my Mom. She says to my Dad and us, "you clean the room and cook""
"My Mom and Dad are bosses cause they wanna be."
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Marriage for Many Reasons
For today's survey I asked a group of little kids "Why did your Dad marry your Mom?". And the answers:
"Because my Dad said, Oh yer pretty, let's get married."
"I don't know why cause my Dad never been to collage."
"Because they like together, I still remember that."
"My Mom was a disco and so was my Dad... Nurse, what's disco mean?"
"Well, ---my Dad was a magician and he was gonna make my Mom disappear if she didn't."
"Cause somebody she know'd didn't give her his phone number, so she married my Dad instead."
"Cause they are valentines."
"I don't know if my Mom married my Dad or If my Dad married my Mom. I think they did it though."
"My Dad married my Mom. He said my Mom is very lucky he married her."
"I think my Mom married my Dad cause he's always fixin her car."
"My Dad married my Mom cause she's tiny. He has his own business in Myjamie (i.e. Miami). He puts stickers on chickens."
"Because my Dad said, Oh yer pretty, let's get married."
"I don't know why cause my Dad never been to collage."
"Because they like together, I still remember that."
"My Mom was a disco and so was my Dad... Nurse, what's disco mean?"
"Well, ---my Dad was a magician and he was gonna make my Mom disappear if she didn't."
"Cause somebody she know'd didn't give her his phone number, so she married my Dad instead."
"Cause they are valentines."
"I don't know if my Mom married my Dad or If my Dad married my Mom. I think they did it though."
"My Dad married my Mom. He said my Mom is very lucky he married her."
"I think my Mom married my Dad cause he's always fixin her car."
"My Dad married my Mom cause she's tiny. He has his own business in Myjamie (i.e. Miami). He puts stickers on chickens."
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Taking the Tumble
Finishing off the last morning support I glanced up at the clock on the wall. 11:14am and a handful of seconds. I waited. Counting the seconds. 11:15am. I leaned back in my chair to peer out the door. They were coming. Some limping, others with dazed looks of confusion. Each one had their unique story but all were victims of PRT, post-recess trauma.
Reuben, slight bump on the head, normal pupil dialation, no headache, cot 1, observation.
Alicia, skinned left knee and bloody right elbow, superficial wounds, antiseptic, bandaids, back to class.
Rhonda, swollen left ankle, still supports weight, nothing broken, cot 2, ace bandage.
And on and on the wave continued. Soon the cots were filled up and the press of bodies coming through the door diminished. The last to enter the ward was Cindy, supported by two of her class mates. As she approached she favored her right leg. She seem not to be in too much pain and her leg was supporting most of her weight. It was not broken.
"Cindy, what happened to you at recess today?" I queried.
“I was doing flips on the monkey bars. I'm learning to do gymnastics and I am going to be a famous gymnast!” she exclaimed with excitement followed by a small groan to emphasize the injury she took in her quest for gold.
Further examination of her leg told me it was just a little sprain and she would be fine. My office was filled up with mostly kindergarteners and first graders so I asked the brave PRT sufferers a question.
“Do you know what a gymnast is?”
As always the children were ready to show their vast knowledge of any subject.
The boy that was helping Cindy volunteered right away, “I think it’s a clown.”
The girl next to her said, “No, it’s a Doctor.”
Another girl offered, “A flipper.”
Another girl, “A girl who does tricks.”
Boy, “It’s playing soccer for boys and girls.”
Boy, “It’s for you to work out and run.”
Girl, “It’s like a bump on your eye.”
Girl, “Some of them are like bumps all over.”
Boy, “People that do stuff like thinking.”
Girl, “No, people that bend in half and stand on their heads.”
The last answer came from a chubby little boy in the corner, “Maybe it’s a snack.”
And so ended my wave of PRT victims. Hmmmm.... I think it is just about time for lunch.
Reuben, slight bump on the head, normal pupil dialation, no headache, cot 1, observation.
Alicia, skinned left knee and bloody right elbow, superficial wounds, antiseptic, bandaids, back to class.
Rhonda, swollen left ankle, still supports weight, nothing broken, cot 2, ace bandage.
And on and on the wave continued. Soon the cots were filled up and the press of bodies coming through the door diminished. The last to enter the ward was Cindy, supported by two of her class mates. As she approached she favored her right leg. She seem not to be in too much pain and her leg was supporting most of her weight. It was not broken.
"Cindy, what happened to you at recess today?" I queried.
“I was doing flips on the monkey bars. I'm learning to do gymnastics and I am going to be a famous gymnast!” she exclaimed with excitement followed by a small groan to emphasize the injury she took in her quest for gold.
Further examination of her leg told me it was just a little sprain and she would be fine. My office was filled up with mostly kindergarteners and first graders so I asked the brave PRT sufferers a question.
“Do you know what a gymnast is?”
As always the children were ready to show their vast knowledge of any subject.
The boy that was helping Cindy volunteered right away, “I think it’s a clown.”
The girl next to her said, “No, it’s a Doctor.”
Another girl offered, “A flipper.”
Another girl, “A girl who does tricks.”
Boy, “It’s playing soccer for boys and girls.”
Boy, “It’s for you to work out and run.”
Girl, “It’s like a bump on your eye.”
Girl, “Some of them are like bumps all over.”
Boy, “People that do stuff like thinking.”
Girl, “No, people that bend in half and stand on their heads.”
The last answer came from a chubby little boy in the corner, “Maybe it’s a snack.”
And so ended my wave of PRT victims. Hmmmm.... I think it is just about time for lunch.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Oh Christmas Tree
Little Robert from Mrs. Smith's first grade class came into my office looking very concerned. "Nurse, I'm sick." He told me, in a very matter of fact voice. "I have to get better fer Christmas. I'm not done shopping yet. I only bought a tree."
"Well, what is wrong?" I asked calling him towards my desk. He didn't appear too sick at first glance.
"My head is drying up !", he said looking more worried as he put both hands on his head very lightly.
I took his temperature as he kept trying to tell me that his head was drying up. "Your temperature is normal Robert." Looking at his hairdo I couldn't help but wonder if he just put too much hair gel on this morning. It was all spiked up and looked pretty stiff.
I tried to take his mind off of his dried up head. "Tell me what your tree is like?" I asked.
That seemed to perk him up, "Oh, I put a star on the tree, a big ball, a candy cane." he said very excitedly. "And a Christmas ball and red, blue, orange, yellow and violet red lights. It's a real tree." he continued.
Another boy overheard our conversation and came running over to proudly annouce, "I chopped down our Christmas tree with a big hammer and my Dad helped me."
"Oh my, that sounds like fun." I said. "Where did you go to chop down the tree?" I asked regretting that question as soon as it came out of my mouth.
"We snuck into someone’s yard that lives down the street." he whispered. "They have lots of trees and my Dad said they could spare one. He told me to be very quiet."
Sometimes kids give you more information then you really want to know. I quickly ushered both boys back to class. As I sat at my desk I daydreamed of the days when I was his age and my Dad went out to the woods to chop down our Christmas Tree. It was always the perfect tree. I thought a little harder and then smiled. No, I don't remember seeing any freshly cut stumps in any of our neighbors yards.
"Well, what is wrong?" I asked calling him towards my desk. He didn't appear too sick at first glance.
"My head is drying up !", he said looking more worried as he put both hands on his head very lightly.
I took his temperature as he kept trying to tell me that his head was drying up. "Your temperature is normal Robert." Looking at his hairdo I couldn't help but wonder if he just put too much hair gel on this morning. It was all spiked up and looked pretty stiff.
I tried to take his mind off of his dried up head. "Tell me what your tree is like?" I asked.
That seemed to perk him up, "Oh, I put a star on the tree, a big ball, a candy cane." he said very excitedly. "And a Christmas ball and red, blue, orange, yellow and violet red lights. It's a real tree." he continued.
Another boy overheard our conversation and came running over to proudly annouce, "I chopped down our Christmas tree with a big hammer and my Dad helped me."
"Oh my, that sounds like fun." I said. "Where did you go to chop down the tree?" I asked regretting that question as soon as it came out of my mouth.
"We snuck into someone’s yard that lives down the street." he whispered. "They have lots of trees and my Dad said they could spare one. He told me to be very quiet."
Sometimes kids give you more information then you really want to know. I quickly ushered both boys back to class. As I sat at my desk I daydreamed of the days when I was his age and my Dad went out to the woods to chop down our Christmas Tree. It was always the perfect tree. I thought a little harder and then smiled. No, I don't remember seeing any freshly cut stumps in any of our neighbors yards.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Better to Give then Receive
The holiday spirit hits people of all ages. I asked the kids today what they are going to get their Mom and Dad for Christmas.
**** First Grader kids ****
For Mom: “I'm getting her hardy shoes. They make tattoos to stick on those shoes.”
For Dad: “My Dad's not in the mood for shoe stuff like that.”
For Mom: “-I'm giving my Mom a souvenier from school.”
For Dad: “I'm giving my Dad money to buy a motorcycle.” I asked him how much money he was going to give his Dad. He replied “I have 50 money saved up fer him.”
**** Kindergarten Kids ****
For Mom: “A tissue box fer cleaning her nose.”
For Dad: “A wheel pumper cause he says his car wheel always goes down when he's sleeping.”
For Mom: “A flower, a rose flower.”
For Dad: “Nuthin! Only maybe just a card cause he hollared at me yesterday fer nuthin.”
For Mom: “A Christmas sock.”
For Dad: “A lollipop.”
For Mom: “Socks.”
For Dad: “Socks.”
For Mom: “Healthy cereal.”
For Dad: “Junk food cereal.”
For Mom: “Green sparkle nail polish.”
For Dad: “A pencil that won't break so he can get some work done.”
For Mom: “A diamond sparkling ring.”
For Dad: “A watch with turtles on it fer work. I saw it in Walmart. He's gonna like my present.”
**** First Grader kids ****
For Mom: “I'm getting her hardy shoes. They make tattoos to stick on those shoes.”
For Dad: “My Dad's not in the mood for shoe stuff like that.”
For Mom: “-I'm giving my Mom a souvenier from school.”
For Dad: “I'm giving my Dad money to buy a motorcycle.” I asked him how much money he was going to give his Dad. He replied “I have 50 money saved up fer him.”
**** Kindergarten Kids ****
For Mom: “A tissue box fer cleaning her nose.”
For Dad: “A wheel pumper cause he says his car wheel always goes down when he's sleeping.”
For Mom: “A flower, a rose flower.”
For Dad: “Nuthin! Only maybe just a card cause he hollared at me yesterday fer nuthin.”
For Mom: “A Christmas sock.”
For Dad: “A lollipop.”
For Mom: “Socks.”
For Dad: “Socks.”
For Mom: “Healthy cereal.”
For Dad: “Junk food cereal.”
For Mom: “Green sparkle nail polish.”
For Dad: “A pencil that won't break so he can get some work done.”
For Mom: “A diamond sparkling ring.”
For Dad: “A watch with turtles on it fer work. I saw it in Walmart. He's gonna like my present.”
I Wish I Were an Oscar Meyer Weiner
When my day is slow I always enjoy a visit to the lunch room. The mood and antics of the kids are guided by the daily menu items. Today the culinary experience was hotdogs. All the little kids were munching away on their lunch fare. Most of the hotdogs were first ripped free of their buns then peeled or shredded before being dipped in ketchup with reckless abandon. The wheat buns, albeit nutritious, were described as “brown and nasty”. Perhaps they looked too much like the crust on white bread which kids so often reject.
Food not eaten often becomes the focus of play. I watched as industrious little hands rolled all sizes of wheat bun marbles. For the most part the wheat bun marbles were rolled around the lunch table or back and forth between the groups of kids. Soon this game became a bit dull and wheat bun marbles started flying through the air. I asked myself, does this happen when I am not around, or am I the catalyst for such events? The cafeteria monitor, lifting an accusatory eyebrow at me, was quick to crack down on the missile launchers. The culprits were shuffled off to sit at tables by themselves pointing fingers and blaming others the whole way.
After the monitor left the rest of the little kids giggled. As penance for something I did not start but for which I was indirectly blamed, I sat down with the group to explain table manners.
One little boy replied to my lecture, “Doctor, I am a good boy. I don’t hurt no one with those brown balls.”
“That’s a nurse,” corrected a girl. “We call her nurse not doctor. Nurse, he’s new in class. We have to show him everything cause he’s a boy.”
I then made the fatal move in our verbal chess match. “Well boys are pretty smart,” I replied.
The table erupted with girl versus boy rhetoric, who’s smarter, who’s stronger. I glanced over my shoulder to check the location of the cafeteria monitor. She was off on the other side of the room. I made a quick exit from the group discussion I started before blame once again fell upon me.
Five tables away, a safe enough distance from the escalading debate I had started, I sat down with another group of kids. These kids were all business at this table. Hotdogs were being consumed and the consensus was that they were really good. I did a quick survey. I asked the kids if they knew how hotdogs were made.
Girl: “They role chicken up.”
Girl: “I think they put popcorn in them.”
Boy; “I don't know about that stuff yet.”
Girl: “I think there is something that comes outta trees thats in them.”
Boy: “There's pork in them from the chickens.”
Boy: “Do they make any with candy?”
Girl: “No, I think its all good stuff.”
Boy: “I wish I could eat hot dogs every day and try all kinds of them.”
The girl versus boy debate was now three tables away and moving in my direction. Staying low to the ground, under the cafeteria monitor’s radar, I head for a side exit. I was no longer hungry for a hotdog today.
Food not eaten often becomes the focus of play. I watched as industrious little hands rolled all sizes of wheat bun marbles. For the most part the wheat bun marbles were rolled around the lunch table or back and forth between the groups of kids. Soon this game became a bit dull and wheat bun marbles started flying through the air. I asked myself, does this happen when I am not around, or am I the catalyst for such events? The cafeteria monitor, lifting an accusatory eyebrow at me, was quick to crack down on the missile launchers. The culprits were shuffled off to sit at tables by themselves pointing fingers and blaming others the whole way.
After the monitor left the rest of the little kids giggled. As penance for something I did not start but for which I was indirectly blamed, I sat down with the group to explain table manners.
One little boy replied to my lecture, “Doctor, I am a good boy. I don’t hurt no one with those brown balls.”
“That’s a nurse,” corrected a girl. “We call her nurse not doctor. Nurse, he’s new in class. We have to show him everything cause he’s a boy.”
I then made the fatal move in our verbal chess match. “Well boys are pretty smart,” I replied.
The table erupted with girl versus boy rhetoric, who’s smarter, who’s stronger. I glanced over my shoulder to check the location of the cafeteria monitor. She was off on the other side of the room. I made a quick exit from the group discussion I started before blame once again fell upon me.
Five tables away, a safe enough distance from the escalading debate I had started, I sat down with another group of kids. These kids were all business at this table. Hotdogs were being consumed and the consensus was that they were really good. I did a quick survey. I asked the kids if they knew how hotdogs were made.
Girl: “They role chicken up.”
Girl: “I think they put popcorn in them.”
Boy; “I don't know about that stuff yet.”
Girl: “I think there is something that comes outta trees thats in them.”
Boy: “There's pork in them from the chickens.”
Boy: “Do they make any with candy?”
Girl: “No, I think its all good stuff.”
Boy: “I wish I could eat hot dogs every day and try all kinds of them.”
The girl versus boy debate was now three tables away and moving in my direction. Staying low to the ground, under the cafeteria monitor’s radar, I head for a side exit. I was no longer hungry for a hotdog today.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Dizzy Gillespie
When kids come into my office and say they are dizzy. I always ask them to explain how they feel since kids often use that term very loosely. I had a little boy laying on the cot and a group of kindergarteners entered. One girl asked the boy on the cot what was wrong and he said he was dizzy. So I started questioning the group to see if they knew what dizzy meant.
Girl: “It is when my head hurts.”
Boy: “Too much spinning around. You don’t know where you are going.”
Boy: “It means YIKES!”
Boy: “I’m not really smart, I don’t know anything that big.”
Girl: “When people are taking too much. Your head moves back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.”
Girl: “My mom gets dizzy a lot. My Dad said she is dizzy. I hope I don’t get it.”
Boy: “When you’re dizzy it means you can’t sit up straight.”
Girl: “I saw someone dizzy one time. They were holding their head and said a bad word.”
Boy: “Dizzy means you go up and down.”
Girl: “It is when my head hurts.”
Boy: “Too much spinning around. You don’t know where you are going.”
Boy: “It means YIKES!”
Boy: “I’m not really smart, I don’t know anything that big.”
Girl: “When people are taking too much. Your head moves back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.”
Girl: “My mom gets dizzy a lot. My Dad said she is dizzy. I hope I don’t get it.”
Boy: “When you’re dizzy it means you can’t sit up straight.”
Girl: “I saw someone dizzy one time. They were holding their head and said a bad word.”
Boy: “Dizzy means you go up and down.”
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
You Can't Eat Just One
Sometimes problems have a way of resolving themselves with little to no intervention on my part. Kyle, a first grader, entered my office crying just a little after lunch. I turned my head every so slightly to meet his watery eyes.
“I had a big sandwich,” he articulated through his sobs. “I ate it all. It was a plain dry sandwich and now I have a stomach ache!”
I shifted in my seat, barely leaning forward.
“Yesterday Derek karate chopped my nose, it is still puffed up. My lips are dried up. I’m a mess, that’s what someone told me.”
I gave a thoughtful glance to his nose but otherwise remained still.
“I wanna go home cause I miss my family. I told my family to buy me some medicine. I’ll just watch TV.
I blinked to acknowledge his dilemma.
“Now my nose is running too. I really think I should go home.” He paused slightly to be sure he included everything, “I sneeze sometimes too.”
As parted my lips to start my reply Kyle glanced at my desk spying a small bag of potato chips. This distracted his prior litany of ailments.
“Can I have some chips, please?”
A slight nod from me and he was on the bag of chips. Sasha, recovering from a brush burn on her knee on cot 1, was taking in this one sided conversation. She got up and came over to my desk eyeing the bag of chips and Kyle alternately.
“Can I have one too?”
Kyle offered her the bag and they both polished off the remaining chips. She then moved closer and stared at Kyle’s nose.
“His nose don’t look puffy to me Nurse,” she said. “It’s recess, we probably should get going.”
With a slight nod from me they were out of the door and headed for the playground. I rose from chair to stretch, stiff from sitting so still. Perhaps I’ll go on line and see about ordering a life size cardboard cut out of my self.
“I had a big sandwich,” he articulated through his sobs. “I ate it all. It was a plain dry sandwich and now I have a stomach ache!”
I shifted in my seat, barely leaning forward.
“Yesterday Derek karate chopped my nose, it is still puffed up. My lips are dried up. I’m a mess, that’s what someone told me.”
I gave a thoughtful glance to his nose but otherwise remained still.
“I wanna go home cause I miss my family. I told my family to buy me some medicine. I’ll just watch TV.
I blinked to acknowledge his dilemma.
“Now my nose is running too. I really think I should go home.” He paused slightly to be sure he included everything, “I sneeze sometimes too.”
As parted my lips to start my reply Kyle glanced at my desk spying a small bag of potato chips. This distracted his prior litany of ailments.
“Can I have some chips, please?”
A slight nod from me and he was on the bag of chips. Sasha, recovering from a brush burn on her knee on cot 1, was taking in this one sided conversation. She got up and came over to my desk eyeing the bag of chips and Kyle alternately.
“Can I have one too?”
Kyle offered her the bag and they both polished off the remaining chips. She then moved closer and stared at Kyle’s nose.
“His nose don’t look puffy to me Nurse,” she said. “It’s recess, we probably should get going.”
With a slight nod from me they were out of the door and headed for the playground. I rose from chair to stretch, stiff from sitting so still. Perhaps I’ll go on line and see about ordering a life size cardboard cut out of my self.
Friday, December 5, 2008
State of Mind
You never know what to expect right after lunch. The best you can do is to finish your light entree on the early side of the lunch period and then spend the remaining time in deep meditation. I prefer the vipassana technique. I was enlightened by this technique on a soul searching journey in the mountains of Tibet (ok, so I googled it and watch a youtube video on the technique, same difference). The goal is to steel your mind for what is to come….
I was just surfacing from my meditative state and uncurling my body from the lotus position when I heard the hurried steps coming towards my office. With one last deep breath I awoke my senses fully to the smell of band-aids and cough syrup as the two second grade boys burst into my office.
“Jimmy pooped in the cafeteria!” Randall reporting loudly for everyone to hear.
“No! No I didn’t,” Jimmy rebuffed the allegation. “I puked cause I was eating to fast! I’m Ok, I’m OK. Nurse, it’s time for recess. Kin I go now?”
Randall would have no part of this explanation. “He pooped in the garbage can! When they empty it they’ll know it cause it smelt like poop.”
“Did not, did not,” Randall continued his defense. “Someone was spittin in their hands so I puked. I’m OK now. Kin I go to recess?”
“You puked, maybe I should take your temperature.” I said.
“Please Nurse, I’m missin recess. I’m no allowed to miss recess or I’ll get a failure on my report!”
I didn’t want to be responsible for a failure. Whether it was poop or puke that ended up in that garbage can he looked fine to me. I said go to recess and he and his prosecutorial friend went running off, all smiles, like the wind.
That little scene depleted more steel from my mind then I thought. Let’s see, assume lotus position, head back, eyes closed, ummmmmmmmmmmm……..
I was just surfacing from my meditative state and uncurling my body from the lotus position when I heard the hurried steps coming towards my office. With one last deep breath I awoke my senses fully to the smell of band-aids and cough syrup as the two second grade boys burst into my office.
“Jimmy pooped in the cafeteria!” Randall reporting loudly for everyone to hear.
“No! No I didn’t,” Jimmy rebuffed the allegation. “I puked cause I was eating to fast! I’m Ok, I’m OK. Nurse, it’s time for recess. Kin I go now?”
Randall would have no part of this explanation. “He pooped in the garbage can! When they empty it they’ll know it cause it smelt like poop.”
“Did not, did not,” Randall continued his defense. “Someone was spittin in their hands so I puked. I’m OK now. Kin I go to recess?”
“You puked, maybe I should take your temperature.” I said.
“Please Nurse, I’m missin recess. I’m no allowed to miss recess or I’ll get a failure on my report!”
I didn’t want to be responsible for a failure. Whether it was poop or puke that ended up in that garbage can he looked fine to me. I said go to recess and he and his prosecutorial friend went running off, all smiles, like the wind.
That little scene depleted more steel from my mind then I thought. Let’s see, assume lotus position, head back, eyes closed, ummmmmmmmmmmm……..
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Thanksgiving Hangover
Thanksgiving break is over and the kids have been pouring into my office with the after effects of a long break, no sleep! Yesterday three first grade boys came to pay me a visit.
Eli tugged at my shirt sleeve, “Nurse, nurse, I want to tell you a story. In my class there’s this kid see, and I was gonna tell him something. And he punched me in the mouth and my tooth flew out on to the floor!” He slugged at the air to emphasize the force of the upper cut that took out his tooth.
“You poor dear,” I said. “Where is your tooth now?”
“In my backpack,” Eli said pointing to his back. “I’m keeping it extra safe for the tooth fairy. But nurse, I want to know if I can eat without my tooth?”
A quick survey of his mouth showed one of his front teeth missing. “I don’t think you will have any problem eating Eli. Just try to stay away from candy until that tooth grows back.” OK, so I couldn’t help but embellish a little with the candy bit. His face was priceless when he digested that news.
“Who was the boy that hit you Eli?” I asked.
“I did nurse!” Timothy exclaimed. “I punched him cause he talks to much.”
Holden did not seem very impressed by this incident. He looked at me and asked, “How as your vacation Nurse Ehop?”
Thankful for the interruption I answered, “It was very nice, thank you for asking Holden. How was your vacation?”
“I went to Myjami on vacation, to eat turkey!” he said. “It was cold there and when I came home I got a cough and I ain’t eatin turkey no more!”
My office was packed with kids by this time. They all jumped into the conversation to enlighten me about their Thanksgiving culinary delights.
“I didn’t eat turkey, I ate ham,” said one boy.
Someone in the back shouted, “I had chicken, vice and ham.”
“I ate six turkeys,” an older boy said sitting up very straight and proud.
A little girl chimed in, “I had mashed potatoes with whipped cream on it!” This brought forth several ohs and ahs from the crowd.
Now the commentary from the group started to come fast and furious!
“We had chicken, ice tea and a pin-apple.”
“I ate only one turkey but it had peas and broccoli and mash potatoes and eggs in it.”
“I had a very nice turkey. It was nice and brown and no bones on it. It was very big.”
“How big was it?” asked a boy.
“As big as a horse!” came the response.
“My turkey didn’t look brown. It didn’t look nice at all. YUK! And I had to eat it too.” exclaimed a boy. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and pretended to eat to show us all how he ate the turkey that was not brown. “Then I had lots of chocolate milk to wash it down!” he continued. “My Mom said she was going to make soup out of the leftover turkey and I would have to eat that too!”
“I hope you have more chocolate milk at home.” said a little girl wide eyed.
It was time to break up the gathering and get the kids back to class. I shooed them along their way and told them to concentrate on their studies. Besides, it was time for lunch and, oh no, a turkey sandwich.
Eli tugged at my shirt sleeve, “Nurse, nurse, I want to tell you a story. In my class there’s this kid see, and I was gonna tell him something. And he punched me in the mouth and my tooth flew out on to the floor!” He slugged at the air to emphasize the force of the upper cut that took out his tooth.
“You poor dear,” I said. “Where is your tooth now?”
“In my backpack,” Eli said pointing to his back. “I’m keeping it extra safe for the tooth fairy. But nurse, I want to know if I can eat without my tooth?”
A quick survey of his mouth showed one of his front teeth missing. “I don’t think you will have any problem eating Eli. Just try to stay away from candy until that tooth grows back.” OK, so I couldn’t help but embellish a little with the candy bit. His face was priceless when he digested that news.
“Who was the boy that hit you Eli?” I asked.
“I did nurse!” Timothy exclaimed. “I punched him cause he talks to much.”
Holden did not seem very impressed by this incident. He looked at me and asked, “How as your vacation Nurse Ehop?”
Thankful for the interruption I answered, “It was very nice, thank you for asking Holden. How was your vacation?”
“I went to Myjami on vacation, to eat turkey!” he said. “It was cold there and when I came home I got a cough and I ain’t eatin turkey no more!”
My office was packed with kids by this time. They all jumped into the conversation to enlighten me about their Thanksgiving culinary delights.
“I didn’t eat turkey, I ate ham,” said one boy.
Someone in the back shouted, “I had chicken, vice and ham.”
“I ate six turkeys,” an older boy said sitting up very straight and proud.
A little girl chimed in, “I had mashed potatoes with whipped cream on it!” This brought forth several ohs and ahs from the crowd.
Now the commentary from the group started to come fast and furious!
“We had chicken, ice tea and a pin-apple.”
“I ate only one turkey but it had peas and broccoli and mash potatoes and eggs in it.”
“I had a very nice turkey. It was nice and brown and no bones on it. It was very big.”
“How big was it?” asked a boy.
“As big as a horse!” came the response.
“My turkey didn’t look brown. It didn’t look nice at all. YUK! And I had to eat it too.” exclaimed a boy. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and pretended to eat to show us all how he ate the turkey that was not brown. “Then I had lots of chocolate milk to wash it down!” he continued. “My Mom said she was going to make soup out of the leftover turkey and I would have to eat that too!”
“I hope you have more chocolate milk at home.” said a little girl wide eyed.
It was time to break up the gathering and get the kids back to class. I shooed them along their way and told them to concentrate on their studies. Besides, it was time for lunch and, oh no, a turkey sandwich.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend
It's Friday morning. As I came into my office I saw a group of kindergarteners marching down the hall towards me. A quick glance and no one appeared to have a stomach ache, headache or even a scratch. "Where are you kids headed this morning?" I inquired hoping it was not my office for a mass outbreak of the flu.
"We are going to the library to read books," the little girl in the front of the line announced.
"My, what beautiful earrings you are wearing today," I admired seeing little sparkling dots in her ears. Little girls love to dress up and wear jewelry and they especially love when you compliment them on what they are wearing. I could see that she was immediately pleased that I noticed her earrings as her face beamed with a huge smile. It was blinding even with the two front teeth missing.
"My earrings are diamonds," she proudly declared tilting her head slightly so the rest of the children in line could see them. "My mom bought them for me at K-Mart."
The little girl behind her quickly moved in front and pushed her hair back behind her ears as she revealed, "My earrings are diamond hearts, hearts mean valentines."
The boy beside her scrunched his nose at this. "What is that?" he asked with a grimace on his face. I could tell he wanted no part of this diamonds and hearts business. He definitely has alot to learn I smiled to myself.
By now the other children in line started to gather around me wanting to join in on the show and tell session that I unintentionally started this morning.
"My mom wear diamonds around here," one little girl chimed in as she excitedly wound her hand around her wrist where a bracelet would be worn.
"I had one earring that got cut off by my sister's window," shouted a little boy pointing to his ear obviously explaining why he didn't have earrings.
Another little boy spoke up, "I wear a purple necklace. It has black balls." I chuckled to myself as I glanced at his neck and saw the necklace was not part of his attire this morning. Part of me was a little disappointed not able to see what this necklace must look like.
"OK children," I said wondering how the conversation went from diamonds to black balls. I was curious to see if they knew the difference. "Do you know what diamonds are?"
Immediately hands raised in the group as the children were excited to share their knowledge.
"I know about diamonds," a little boy called out. "They are just gold. They look like diamond on a pinto."
Another boy quickly chimed in, "A diamond is a sticker, like on a bowl. You find them in caves when there's a treasure in them." He then very animatedly demonstrated as he put hands together holding an imaginary tool and vigrously pumped his arms up and down. "You have to pound them to get them out."
"Diamonds come from stores," a little girl disagreed. "They build them and paint them."
Another little girl had a different opinion, "You can find them at the playground. Then you have to wash them off in the bath tub."
Finally one little girl in the back of the group spoke up quietly stating what we women have assumed for hundreds of years. "Nurse, I know where diamonds come from." She paused to make sure she had the attention of the whole group. "They grow on trees."
"We are going to the library to read books," the little girl in the front of the line announced.
"My, what beautiful earrings you are wearing today," I admired seeing little sparkling dots in her ears. Little girls love to dress up and wear jewelry and they especially love when you compliment them on what they are wearing. I could see that she was immediately pleased that I noticed her earrings as her face beamed with a huge smile. It was blinding even with the two front teeth missing.
"My earrings are diamonds," she proudly declared tilting her head slightly so the rest of the children in line could see them. "My mom bought them for me at K-Mart."
The little girl behind her quickly moved in front and pushed her hair back behind her ears as she revealed, "My earrings are diamond hearts, hearts mean valentines."
The boy beside her scrunched his nose at this. "What is that?" he asked with a grimace on his face. I could tell he wanted no part of this diamonds and hearts business. He definitely has alot to learn I smiled to myself.
By now the other children in line started to gather around me wanting to join in on the show and tell session that I unintentionally started this morning.
"My mom wear diamonds around here," one little girl chimed in as she excitedly wound her hand around her wrist where a bracelet would be worn.
"I had one earring that got cut off by my sister's window," shouted a little boy pointing to his ear obviously explaining why he didn't have earrings.
Another little boy spoke up, "I wear a purple necklace. It has black balls." I chuckled to myself as I glanced at his neck and saw the necklace was not part of his attire this morning. Part of me was a little disappointed not able to see what this necklace must look like.
"OK children," I said wondering how the conversation went from diamonds to black balls. I was curious to see if they knew the difference. "Do you know what diamonds are?"
Immediately hands raised in the group as the children were excited to share their knowledge.
"I know about diamonds," a little boy called out. "They are just gold. They look like diamond on a pinto."
Another boy quickly chimed in, "A diamond is a sticker, like on a bowl. You find them in caves when there's a treasure in them." He then very animatedly demonstrated as he put hands together holding an imaginary tool and vigrously pumped his arms up and down. "You have to pound them to get them out."
"Diamonds come from stores," a little girl disagreed. "They build them and paint them."
Another little girl had a different opinion, "You can find them at the playground. Then you have to wash them off in the bath tub."
Finally one little girl in the back of the group spoke up quietly stating what we women have assumed for hundreds of years. "Nurse, I know where diamonds come from." She paused to make sure she had the attention of the whole group. "They grow on trees."
Thursday, November 20, 2008
One FLU Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
Sometimes I’m not sure if I am the one losing my mind or perhaps the kids that visit me lose their minds.
Cold and flu season is well under way. The entrance to my office is a revolving door of ill kids. Most kids are quick to identify a major symptom from which I can make a determination whether to send the kid home or back to class. Just when my day falls into a steady rhythm symptom/diagnosis, the anomaly walks into my office. Today it was Benson, a first grade boy.
“I have a fever,” volunteer Benson. “And I’m coughing.” He furrowed his brow, thought a moment and continued, “I have a fever. I have everything.” He threw his hands up to indicate he was helplessly sick.
“Oh dear,” I comforted him. “Let me take your temperature.”
As I directed him to cot number five he apparently was not done with his symptoms. “Same thing I had the last time I was here, that’s when I had red eyes. I had a lot of dust on me then.” Pointing to his eyes and brushing off some unseen dust he came to the point, “I get more sick and more sick!”
“Did your Mom give you any medicine this morning?” I enquired.
“I had nasty medicine this morning,” Benson replied wrinkling his nose. “I have a stomach ache, a headache, a stuffy nose and my arm and leg hurt.”
This may be one for the medical journals I thought. I was absolutely sure he was done with his symptom list. But no, he as not, he was after all…. The Anomaly!
“I can’t talk well,” he continued on. “And I can’t move well, and that’s it Nurse.”
He took a deep breath finally and I aimed the thermometer for his mouth. Almost there, steady I thought to myself, steady girl.
Benson turned his head quickly away from my aim and added, “Oh, yeah, and I don’t walk to good with my shoes on!”
Before he could shut his mouth my expert training hit the mark. The thermometer was wedged under his tongue and I bade him not to speak until I removed the instrument. Sitting back I thought a moment. Please let there be but one Anomaly today!
Cold and flu season is well under way. The entrance to my office is a revolving door of ill kids. Most kids are quick to identify a major symptom from which I can make a determination whether to send the kid home or back to class. Just when my day falls into a steady rhythm symptom/diagnosis, the anomaly walks into my office. Today it was Benson, a first grade boy.
“I have a fever,” volunteer Benson. “And I’m coughing.” He furrowed his brow, thought a moment and continued, “I have a fever. I have everything.” He threw his hands up to indicate he was helplessly sick.
“Oh dear,” I comforted him. “Let me take your temperature.”
As I directed him to cot number five he apparently was not done with his symptoms. “Same thing I had the last time I was here, that’s when I had red eyes. I had a lot of dust on me then.” Pointing to his eyes and brushing off some unseen dust he came to the point, “I get more sick and more sick!”
“Did your Mom give you any medicine this morning?” I enquired.
“I had nasty medicine this morning,” Benson replied wrinkling his nose. “I have a stomach ache, a headache, a stuffy nose and my arm and leg hurt.”
This may be one for the medical journals I thought. I was absolutely sure he was done with his symptom list. But no, he as not, he was after all…. The Anomaly!
“I can’t talk well,” he continued on. “And I can’t move well, and that’s it Nurse.”
He took a deep breath finally and I aimed the thermometer for his mouth. Almost there, steady I thought to myself, steady girl.
Benson turned his head quickly away from my aim and added, “Oh, yeah, and I don’t walk to good with my shoes on!”
Before he could shut his mouth my expert training hit the mark. The thermometer was wedged under his tongue and I bade him not to speak until I removed the instrument. Sitting back I thought a moment. Please let there be but one Anomaly today!
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