Tales of a First Grade Nothing

I subbed for first grade today, and to be honest with you I was a bit apprehensive. My endorsement is for 7-12 grade, specifically in History. However, I agreed to do it months ahead of time and I knew once I got there things would be okay. They were only first graders. How much work could they be? They COULD NOT possibly suck the life out of you like the kindergartners did. No way. Things would be fine.


Things were working out quite well until 9:45 a.m. Chaos rolled around when one little girl from a neighboring class needed a time out and sat in my room for a while to think over her naughty behavior (she just wanted to color--on herself). No sooner had I got her settle in, another little girl began the bathroom dance, and rather unfortunately, did not make it quite in time. Then, a third little girl, whom I sent to the nurse earlier because she felt warm, quietly began vomiting all over the floor. Whoa. Okay. I guess I lied to myself.

Was I teaching or was I at home? LOL. I eventually got things smoothed over. I was able to get the sick girl cleaned up enough for her to return to the nurse's office (for good, I might add), finish with the other child's time out, and convinced the other little one to stroll down to the nurse's office for a fresh change of clothes. This was all done by 10:00 a.m. The wonderful maintenance man was able to clean things up rather quickly and soon everyone forgot about the vomit, until, oh, five minutes later, when another class joined us. "Yes, right there! That is where she puked!" "Yeah, it was ALL OVER the floor." "I'm not sure what color it was. Teacher wouldn't let us look." I am so mean.

It gets better--I perused quietly later on during the day that children are quite fascinating creatures. I observed this even more so later in the day when I had recess duty. As I followed the first grade class to the playground, I was oddly reminded of moving a herd of cattle to a new pasture. There were two of of us teachers, one leading, and one catching all the stragglers. There were a few students who tried to bolt from side to side, but there were enough natural boundaries to keep them confined until we reached the playground. Oh yeah, and don't forget the dust. Sixty little first graders make quite a bit of dust. Then, the stampede happens. The lead cattle, I mean, children, smell the freedom that the playground offers and they toss up their heads and belt for the equipment. Just like cows after a few miles march to fresh water. I swear. You should watch it sometime. Just don't get caught in the path of the students. There is a good possibility you could get trampled.

After the day ended, I thought "Yes, home! I survived first grade!" But then, my own children reminded me that I was falsely lured into a sense of tranquility. The third grader and the second grader immediately begin arguing whether or not there was in fact such a thing as a strawberry crab. One insisted there was while the other took great pride in the torture they inflicted by insisting it doesn't. Two kids want to take baths while five of them need to bathe, and only one decided to take a shower without a fight. Later, after bed time, when all are in bed for at least thirty seconds, the two-year emerged from the bedroom without his pajamas on. Or his pull-up. Naked as a jay-bird. Great.

This was my Monday. It was eventful. It was--excuse me--is scary right now. My two year old just got out of bed. For the twenty-third time. With a blanket over his head saying "Oooooooo! I am ghost! I scared-da you, Mommy?" Yes. Yes you did, little boy. Good night. Again.


P.S. The strawberry crab is real. It is AKA the Hawaiian Strawberry Crab or the red boxing crab. It is usually pink in color with white spots, making it oddly reminiscent of a strawberry.