Wednesday, May 2, 2012


Warning:  If you think I'm an attractive, smart woman- don't read this.  For the rest of you, continue...

My first few years teaching, I got sick.  A lot.  This happens with most teachers.  Over the years, your immune system builds up and it happens less frequently.  Between teaching and staying home with the kids, I've pretty much reached this status.

Being a substitute teacher is kinda like being a storm chaser.  When a string of snotty nose, barfing-in-the-classroom bugs make there way through a class, I'm sent in as the reinforcement.  I follow the bugs people!

This isn't usually a problem.  Then Thursday came.

I was subbing in a wonderful 2nd grade class.  One of my favorites.  Two teachers co-teach their classes together.  My daughters best friend is in one of these classes.  So many sweet, familiar faces.

Morning went well.  I brought in more Mo Willems books for the kids to read.  We designed our own super hero power bugs.  Wrote in our journals. 

After lunch, I had a stomach pain.  In real time of only about a half hour, I was lightheaded and sweating.  Instead of roaming the class, I positioned myself in a chair.  One of the really annoying inquiring students with a math question came up for help.

My stomach was churning.  Sweat dripped down my back.  This girl had a handful of pretend money, trying to complete the oh-so-hard task of making 52 cents in change.

She held up a quarter.  "Is this 52 cents?"

Gut wrenching discomfort moved down my torso.  "No.  That's a quarter.  It equals 25 cents.  What would two quarters equal?"

Sticks her tongue out in thought... "52 cents?"

My face was sweaty, on fire.  "No.  If you double 25 cents, you get 50 cents."

A light bulb went on for this child.  She decided to share it with me by poking me in the shoulder.  "Hey.  Hey.  Hey, Mrs. Persinger.  That's only two cents less than 52 cents."

I think I'm going to pass out if she pokes me again.

"Hey teacher, why do some of these plastic coins look different?"

Thank goodness for recess.

I run down the hall to the closest adult bathroom, ready to hurl.  A table full of kids working on a project are right outside this single unit bathroom.  Seriously-- who thinks this isn't awkward?

"Hi Mrs. Persinger!"

I answer with what can only be described as a gulp.

Five minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom, spent and pale.  The bathroom I'm sure is not soundproof.  These same students still sit outside the bathroom.

"Mrs. Persinger???"  Their voices were as shaky as I felt.  Ya.  Sure that one is going to be shared at the dinner table for several families that night.

Lumbering back to the classroom, I run into... my son.

"God, mom.  What's wrong with you!?"

So, a half hour before the end of the day, they sent me home.

They actually offered to walk with me.  They actually offered to drive me.

But at least I have my dignity.  Oh, wait... no I don't!

No comments:

Post a Comment