Day Eighty-Two

Today I played a little game entitled, Count the Cries/Wails/Yells/Whatever else that's not acceptable forms of communication. There's no winner or loser; I just wanted to see how much my class cries. To be as rambunctious as they are, they are very "delicate."

The Top Four Criers, in order from the least amount of crocodile tears and silent sobs to the broken levy of Hurricane Katrina tears and boisterous boo-hoos are:

Wild Thing # 14: Decided to play with his money instead of completing his morning work. (Oh no, not happening in my class). So, I took up his money and quickly informed him he would not receive it back unless he completed all of his sentence corrections without error before the bell rang on the timer. I have never seen him work so efficiently!

Wild Thing #1: Found a minuscule bump on his head and decided he had a tumor. He needed to see the nurse immediately or else it would grow and develop into H1N1 and he would die. Needless to say, he did not go see the nurse, and trust me, he'll be at school tomorrow morning bright and early with a smile on his face.

Wild Thing # 13: Cried/wailed all throughout recess today. First, he could not catch and/or hold onto the football, so he started crying. Next, the other Wild Things would not play with him since he was crying, so he cried even louder. Then I sent him to "Time Out" on the pavement because of his tears, and his cries are subdued. Finally as we leave recess, his cries intensify because another Wild Thing yells "Cry Baby" to someone else, and Wild Thing #13 thinks it is targeted at him.

Wild Thing # 7: is the Queen of Temper Tantrums (at least for today). Even before I opened the doors of the cafeteria of impending woe, I could hear her wails. From this, I knew my wish for a calm classroom atmosphere had not been granted. All in all, she had three major melt downs (Twice she kicked her desk so hard that all of her books fell to the floor, and the other time she threw her bookbag across the classroom). She had two temper tantrums in which she was on the floor kicking and screaming. There were several crying spells and many outburst. After each time, I asked her, "Why did you decide to act like this?" Her response, "They were looking at me!"

Introduction

I am a teacher by profession. But do I teach? That is debatable. I'm more of a ringmaster in a circus: entertaining and maintaining order. Or better yet, the top on a tea kettle, doing its best keeping the steam at bay. Except, I don't like losing my battles. So, I guess the best way to describe me is Educator of Wild Things!

And, I call my “students” Wild Things because they are socially mutated individuals. They subjected to situations most adults could not fathom. Mathematically speaking, here is the breakdown of my class: Mothers in prison + Abusive fathers + Homeless shelters + Tony Montana as your neighbors + Crack addicted grandmothers = my Wild Things. (Ask yourself, would you be “normal” if you endured this; didn't think so).

I only mentioned the above ONLY as background knowledge. It is NOT an excuse for their behavior; only to help illustrate my story.

I write this blog to maintain my sanity as well as bring humor to otherwise stressful accounts of my day.