Tag: teacher

Kids make me sick. And, no, not just uncomfortable, or a little bit queasy – but down right, pit of the stomach, SICK. It’s just something that they do that can turn that “thank God it’s Friday!” feeling, into “thank God I didn’t eat a large greasy breakfast”…let me run you through Friday’s events real quick ~

So I’m sitting in my kindergarten class, going through one of the books – most of the kids say that it is “easy peas” (they’re Korean so cut them some slack on the misuse of the phrase!), however one of the boys struggles with learning difficulties, so I’m giving him a little bit of extra help. That’s when I hear the long whine that I hear about 3000 times a day (approximately): “Teeeeeeeaaaacccccherrr? Oh, Teaaaaaachhherrrr? Teeaaaaachherrr! TEAAAA-“

“Oh my GOH…WHAT?”

As I turn in a fit of rage (but still trying to maintain a pleasant kindergarten-esque smile), I see a horrendous sight. A six year old boy. With his arms outstretched, a crayon in each hand, has the squelchiest sick ever seen ALL down his front. He stares at me without blinking. I look him up and down, examining the new addition to his teddy bear t-shirt, in sheer disgust. This most certainly was not in the job description.

That’s when I suddenly realise I shouldn’t make a big deal out of it, so I walk around to his table, with as close to a reassuring face as I can muster. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you, WHOA, WOW”, that’s when I almost slide over on the mixture of rice(?) and carrot(?) that is right by his chair. So I pull him up without looking at it again and walk him out. (For some reason he still holds his arms out, holding the crayons, as if crucified in a state of shock).

I explain as best as I can to the assistant teacher outside, she nods and hands me some face wipes. FACE WIPES?! Perhaps I had some on my face? Did he projectile vomit all over me? Maybe I am in a similar state of shock, so I don’t realise? Not sure…oh no, scratch that! She’s gesturing that I should clean it up with them. Fantastic stuff. Thank God, it’s Friday.

So as I drag myself back into the room, which we can now refer to as, “THE PIT OF STENCH”, the other kids are going crazy, waving their hands over their noses at a frenetic pace and squealing in weird excitement; accompanied with the putrid smell, it is all making me very dizzy. Anyway, duty beckons – so begrudgingly I kneel down next to the specimen, I don’t want to seem like I’m scared of a little bit of…“URGAAAH” I yelp unintentionally…I’d forgotten just how gross the sight was. Of course onlookers think it is hilarious…I force myself on, and get out a few of the face wipes (like seriously though, what the hell?), and attempt to mop it up, I am of course, ill-equipped, and the sloppy goo seeps over the top of the wet tissue and floods between my fingers, “URGAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

I am now convulsing and retching uncontrollably, gasping for fresh air, only to be met with more of the same foul odor – again, onlookers think it is the funniest thing they’ve seen since Despicable Me 2. 

“What’s wrong Teacher?” someone sniggers

“Well…I think that should be obvious – I am wiping up sick with my bare hands” I mutter,

“What Teaaaacher?”

I go for a change of tactic and pick up some of the sturdy flash cards we have for vocabulary, by chance it is “meat” and “story” that will be giving me a hand. I crouch back down and scoop it up, using meat as a makeshift plate and story as a knife to scrape it on to. (I’m basically the Bear Grylls of the kindergarten classroom.) I then push them together like the grossest Subway sandwich ever, and walk out of the classroom trying my best not to look at the contents of my hands. The assistant gives me a look that says something along the lines of “ohhhh, I would have did it…you have done it already? Oh, okay! Never mind!”

I decided to keep the offender out of playroom time, we sat and played on my phone quite happily. I was hoping he would be some kind of prodigy and beat my high score for me. He didn’t. But I didn’t let that get me down – thank God it’s Friday, right? Right. After the playroom time is up we all skip out and BLURAAAAGGGGGHHHH. Round two, all on a carpet this time.

Back in class again. (WHY ARE THEY NOT CALLING HIS PARENTS?) And we are trying to take it easy, coincidentally we are writing and drawing about good manners, I ask the offender for an example of polite etiquette – he answers “sitting nicely?” It’s a great answer! Isn’t it funny how we can always give good advice to each other, but don’t exactly follow it ourselves? Anyway, I digress.

It’s getting close to lunch time, it’s one of those watching the clock days.That’s when round three comes in, it’s exhausting to even recall it. And it’s putting me off my coffee even now, two days later.  But to say it was explosive would be an understatement. This child is like four foot or something and he basically has a river of vomit flooding from his mouth, where is it all coming from? I’ll say it like this, I had time to look at every kid’s facial reaction in the time that it took for him to finish. I could see this was scarring them for life. Good to know I wasn’t the only one.

I picked him up with one arm and grabbed his bag with the other. I then told the assistant to call his Mother, immediately. I don’t like to come off rude ever…but the new reservoir of sick that I had in my classroom was starting to distract the others just a little.

For some reason, he was still sat there when I returned from lunch. Whatever happened to three strikes and you’re out?! He wanted to play, and call me a “silly Grandpa man” when his vomit was probably still under my fingernails. Come on man, have a heart.

And that is why kids make me sick.

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