Twice a marking period we have desk clean out. This is when the students have to take out everything inside their desk and throw away the stuff they don’t really need. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit that these tards have been keeping in their desk.
By far the scariest desk was Antonio’s. He doesn’t throw anything away, and because of his obsessive behavior he flips out whenever we try to explain to him that he has to get rid of it. Some of the interesting things we found in his desk include.
1. A large pile of bloody fingernails. Antonio bites his fingernails like till they bleed and he tends to hoard them in certain places. I had to get out the latex gloves to clean this mess up.
2. A large pile of chewed tard pencils. These pencils were beyond destroyed, they were compost. The shear quantity of wood and graphite that this kid must ingest could probably kill a small mammal.
3. Four rolls of toilet paper, stolen from the bathroom. When I asked Antonio why he had these, he responded “Just in case”. I mean, what kind of fucking accident, and trust me I’ve seen them all, is going to require four full rolls of toilet paper?
4. A bunch of rubber bands. These I took away immediately. [See CITE]
In the end I explained to Antonio that he should only keep assignments, paper, and pencils in his desk. I then took away all his stuff and gave him two new pencils. I doubt they will make it to the end of the day.
Monday, November 9, 2015
#21: New computer isn’t “Tard-proof”:
The administration of my school in their infinite wisdom decided it would be a good idea to give our classroom a new computer.
Never mind the fact that we have a filing cabinet that is older than any of the staff, and has a history of trying to kill my students. They decided not to replace that, but instead replace our perfectly functional computer. If I sound bitter, it’s because I am, but the administration soon learned the error of their ways.
Our classroom originally had an Apple IIe computer. The tards were allowed computer time as a reward for doing something correctly, i.e.. going a full day without swearing, not hitting anyone for a week, not shitting their pants, etc.
This computer was very simple to use. The aids put a game disk in the drive and turned the computer on. Most of the tards who manage to get computer time know how to mash the space and enter keys, and that tends to be all that their games require. This computer never gave us a problem, other than occasionally having to pull shit out of the keyboard or turn it off and back on again because it got dropped. It managed to sustain drool, temper tantrums, flying objects, and repeated unplugging.
The same could not be said for our new computer. First of all we had to get all new games. The tards didn’t like this. It was frustrating enough for them to learn how to play the games the first time, having to do it twice was just unthinkable. This lead to a general dislike of the new computer amongst the tards.
One day Leigh saw one of my aids insert a CD-ROM into the CD drive to install a program. As soon as the aid turned her back Leigh had hit the eject button and slammed her hand on the tray hard enough to break it.
This made the situation much worse. Not only didn’t the tards like the new games, but we couldn’t even install them. After disciplining Leigh (she lost computer time indefinitely), I called the librarian (our schools PC technician) to tell her what happened. She said she would bring down a new CD-ROM and install it around lunch time. I asked her if we could have our old computer back, and she told me that the new one was far better, and I should really forget about the old one. This pissed me off. No librarian bitch is going to tell me what’s best for my class. I decided it was about time Jason got some computer time.
It took Jason about 3 minutes of frustration before he kicked the monitor off the table and hit the computer with his chair. Apparently he couldn’t figure out how to get the games started. The librarian gave us back our old computer because the cost of replacing our new one was just too much. Jason got punished, I took away his computer time indefinitely, or more specifically until I need another computer smashed.
Never mind the fact that we have a filing cabinet that is older than any of the staff, and has a history of trying to kill my students. They decided not to replace that, but instead replace our perfectly functional computer. If I sound bitter, it’s because I am, but the administration soon learned the error of their ways.
Our classroom originally had an Apple IIe computer. The tards were allowed computer time as a reward for doing something correctly, i.e.. going a full day without swearing, not hitting anyone for a week, not shitting their pants, etc.
This computer was very simple to use. The aids put a game disk in the drive and turned the computer on. Most of the tards who manage to get computer time know how to mash the space and enter keys, and that tends to be all that their games require. This computer never gave us a problem, other than occasionally having to pull shit out of the keyboard or turn it off and back on again because it got dropped. It managed to sustain drool, temper tantrums, flying objects, and repeated unplugging.
The same could not be said for our new computer. First of all we had to get all new games. The tards didn’t like this. It was frustrating enough for them to learn how to play the games the first time, having to do it twice was just unthinkable. This lead to a general dislike of the new computer amongst the tards.
One day Leigh saw one of my aids insert a CD-ROM into the CD drive to install a program. As soon as the aid turned her back Leigh had hit the eject button and slammed her hand on the tray hard enough to break it.
This made the situation much worse. Not only didn’t the tards like the new games, but we couldn’t even install them. After disciplining Leigh (she lost computer time indefinitely), I called the librarian (our schools PC technician) to tell her what happened. She said she would bring down a new CD-ROM and install it around lunch time. I asked her if we could have our old computer back, and she told me that the new one was far better, and I should really forget about the old one. This pissed me off. No librarian bitch is going to tell me what’s best for my class. I decided it was about time Jason got some computer time.
It took Jason about 3 minutes of frustration before he kicked the monitor off the table and hit the computer with his chair. Apparently he couldn’t figure out how to get the games started. The librarian gave us back our old computer because the cost of replacing our new one was just too much. Jason got punished, I took away his computer time indefinitely, or more specifically until I need another computer smashed.
#19: Joe's Pencil:
Needless to say, that tard room I work in doesn't have a pencil sharpener. I have one that suction cups to my desk that I keep in a locked drawer. Whenever I need to sharpen a pencil, I take it out, clamp it down, and sharpen away. Today I got the sharpener out for Antonio's pencil. I figured while I have it out I might as well ask if any of the other tards need their pencils sharpened. I make this announcement, and Joe immediately wedges his head under his desk and starts crying.
This doesn't surprise me. Joe usually acts this way whenever he has done something wrong. I walk over to him and ask him what the problem is.
"Nothin'" he replies.
I go back to my desk to begin sharpening tard pencils. Most of the tards come up, including Joe. One by one they hand me their pencils and I sharpen them. Joe steps up and hands me a magic marker.
I manage to explain to Joe that it isn't a pencil, and you don't need to sharpen it. Joe insists that it is a pencil and that I have to sharpen it. I'm about to explain for a second time, when Joe grabs the marker and shoves it in the pencil sharpener. He starts cranking the poor thing like crazy and the marker begins bleeding all over the desk. By the time I pulled Joe away from the sharpener he had mauled the marker down to a one inch stub.
I made Joe sit down and write an apology, with a pencil that I provided. In his apology Joe wrote about how he had lost his pencil and he thought I would be angry, so he brought up a marker. He wrote that he thought he could trick me, and he is sorry.
This doesn't surprise me. Joe usually acts this way whenever he has done something wrong. I walk over to him and ask him what the problem is.
"Nothin'" he replies.
I go back to my desk to begin sharpening tard pencils. Most of the tards come up, including Joe. One by one they hand me their pencils and I sharpen them. Joe steps up and hands me a magic marker.
I manage to explain to Joe that it isn't a pencil, and you don't need to sharpen it. Joe insists that it is a pencil and that I have to sharpen it. I'm about to explain for a second time, when Joe grabs the marker and shoves it in the pencil sharpener. He starts cranking the poor thing like crazy and the marker begins bleeding all over the desk. By the time I pulled Joe away from the sharpener he had mauled the marker down to a one inch stub.
I made Joe sit down and write an apology, with a pencil that I provided. In his apology Joe wrote about how he had lost his pencil and he thought I would be angry, so he brought up a marker. He wrote that he thought he could trick me, and he is sorry.
#18: Supermarket serves fresh tard:
I was going through the supermarket around 12:00AM last night. I usually shop late at night, as there is less of a chance of bumping into anyone I know. I was going through frozen food section, when I see one of my tards on the other side of the freezer glass, mashed in between packages of frozen corn and peas. He was smiling and fogging up the window while beating on the glass and saying "Miss Hammon!" over and over.
I'm think to myself, "What a fucked up supermarket--they serve frozen tard."
After that I thought, "Were the hell are his parents?". I was relieved to find that it was one of the push open kinds of freezer doors as he let himself out and walked over to me. I told him what he was doing is very dangerous and he could suffocate. This agitated him, and he consequently told me I was a cunt and that he thought I would like the surprise. He then spit on the floor and walked away.
I never found out if he was with his parents or not.
I'm think to myself, "What a fucked up supermarket--they serve frozen tard."
After that I thought, "Were the hell are his parents?". I was relieved to find that it was one of the push open kinds of freezer doors as he let himself out and walked over to me. I told him what he was doing is very dangerous and he could suffocate. This agitated him, and he consequently told me I was a cunt and that he thought I would like the surprise. He then spit on the floor and walked away.
I never found out if he was with his parents or not.
#17: Kunte still likes the bathroom:
Today Kunte asked me if he could use the bathroom. Since he hadn't already used all his bathroom visits, I let him. Once again, he spent a good 15 minutes in there, but I didn't hear any flushing or gurgling sounds. I knocked on the door and didn't get any response. Finally I opened the door to see what was going on.
Kunte was laying face down in the middle of the bathroom with his eyes closed. Immediately fearing the worst I rushed over to him to see if he was alive. As soon as I sat next to him and started looking for vital signs he sits up and looks at me. In a frantic voice, I asked him if he was alright, if anything was wrong. He smiled and said,
"No I was just sleeping."
"Sleeping?!?", I inquired, "If you needed to take a nap you could have asked to go to the nurse, why are you sleeping
in the bathroom".
"Because the tile is cool."
Kunte was laying face down in the middle of the bathroom with his eyes closed. Immediately fearing the worst I rushed over to him to see if he was alive. As soon as I sat next to him and started looking for vital signs he sits up and looks at me. In a frantic voice, I asked him if he was alright, if anything was wrong. He smiled and said,
"No I was just sleeping."
"Sleeping?!?", I inquired, "If you needed to take a nap you could have asked to go to the nurse, why are you sleeping
in the bathroom".
"Because the tile is cool."
#16: Joe's Assignment
In the front of my class I have a bin for submitted assignments. At the end of the day I'll go through it. Occasionally someone submits some work that's worth grading, usually however I just find spit balls, used tissues, chewed pencils, sheets of paper with curse words all over them, or someone's book. Today I was particularly bad, and I was basically dumping the bin into the garbage, when I came across Joe's submission.
Joe had taken a piece of paper, folded it in eight, as we usually do for math problems. Then instead of just using the eight rectangles for the problems, he cut each one out and made a stack of papers. He stapled the stack together, and submitted his work that way. This amazes me for several reasons:
-First of all the papers were cut, not ripped, this means he had to have access to a pair of scissors.
-Second the cuts were actually straight, very unlike Joe.
-Third, he had access to a stapler to put it together.
Despite this amazing effort, he didn't actually do any of the problems. Apparently after all that hard work making the booklet he didn't feel like putting anything in it.
Joe had taken a piece of paper, folded it in eight, as we usually do for math problems. Then instead of just using the eight rectangles for the problems, he cut each one out and made a stack of papers. He stapled the stack together, and submitted his work that way. This amazes me for several reasons:
-First of all the papers were cut, not ripped, this means he had to have access to a pair of scissors.
-Second the cuts were actually straight, very unlike Joe.
-Third, he had access to a stapler to put it together.
Despite this amazing effort, he didn't actually do any of the problems. Apparently after all that hard work making the booklet he didn't feel like putting anything in it.
#15: Malcolm's annoying chair
I was supervising a few students during their individual play time, when I heard the ear-piercing roar of our fire alarm. I immediately assumed my typical position next to the door, making sure the tards make it outside, while my aides herded them towards me.
Malcolm decided he doesn't want to go outside. The aide assisting Malcolm starts pushing him towards the door, and he immediately slams his chair into reverse. She pushes harder, the motor starts making a loud buzzing sound, and the room smells faintly of burnt oil.
I step forward and move Malcolm's finger off of the control, after this he starts rolling towards the door. The second I turn around to
check on the other tards he hits reverse again. Hearing that load motor buzz, I swing around and grab the side of Malcolm's chair, sliding his arm off the side and into his lap, making it impossible for him to hit his finger control. The aide then pushed him out the door.
Once we were outside and lined up, I put Malcolm's arm back on the side of his chair. Malcolm immediately started flying back towards the room. I grabbed his chair and held him in place, while the motor made that nice buzzing sound. Now all the teachers and their classes are staring at me holding this wheelchair tard in place while his chair is making the most horrendous buzzing sound ever.
I finally got fed up. In the hopes that he would drain his battery, I put on the manual breaks and walked back over to our classes line. Malcolm must have sat there buzzing for a good ten minutes. Finally after all the other classes went back, including ours, I took off his brakes and allowed him back into the building.
I still don't know why Malcolm wanted to be in the building so much.
Malcolm decided he doesn't want to go outside. The aide assisting Malcolm starts pushing him towards the door, and he immediately slams his chair into reverse. She pushes harder, the motor starts making a loud buzzing sound, and the room smells faintly of burnt oil.
I step forward and move Malcolm's finger off of the control, after this he starts rolling towards the door. The second I turn around to
check on the other tards he hits reverse again. Hearing that load motor buzz, I swing around and grab the side of Malcolm's chair, sliding his arm off the side and into his lap, making it impossible for him to hit his finger control. The aide then pushed him out the door.
Once we were outside and lined up, I put Malcolm's arm back on the side of his chair. Malcolm immediately started flying back towards the room. I grabbed his chair and held him in place, while the motor made that nice buzzing sound. Now all the teachers and their classes are staring at me holding this wheelchair tard in place while his chair is making the most horrendous buzzing sound ever.
I finally got fed up. In the hopes that he would drain his battery, I put on the manual breaks and walked back over to our classes line. Malcolm must have sat there buzzing for a good ten minutes. Finally after all the other classes went back, including ours, I took off his brakes and allowed him back into the building.
I still don't know why Malcolm wanted to be in the building so much.
#13: Tard loses fight:
Angelo was walking towards the coat room today, when he clipped one of the classroom tables with his hip. Feeling slighted, he cursed at the table and swung his leg to kick the corner he'd bumped into. He missed the table leg by inches and sent his foot smashing into the underside of the table. He screamed and bent down to grab his toes, banging his head against the topside of the table.
At this point Angelo started crying, fell on his butt, and started trying to take his shoe off. He leaned forward to untie his shoe and hit his forehead against the edge of the table. After this he just curled up into a ball. I have never seen a tard lose a fight with an inanimate object quite as badly as this.
At this point Angelo started crying, fell on his butt, and started trying to take his shoe off. He leaned forward to untie his shoe and hit his forehead against the edge of the table. After this he just curled up into a ball. I have never seen a tard lose a fight with an inanimate object quite as badly as this.
#12: Macaroni Fiasco:
I had the tards make macaroni pictures today. They make thousands of these things as they progress through the elementary school special needs program.
Despite that, most of them still have a lot of trouble getting the general concept. I'll usually end of with one or two students who don't use glue, and a few who don't use macaroni. The pictures they make are so open to interpretation you could use them as a Rorschach test.
The arts and crafts time was progressing as normal, in essence, the tards were yelling occasionally, getting frustrated and ripping up their pictures, or just staring at the big Tupperware bowl of macaroni.
I was circling the table calming them down and encouraging them to participate, when Kunte, who had been in the bathroom, started walking back towards the table. He saw Antonio taking pieces of macaroni off of his drying picture. Kunte yelled "MINE!" and started running towards the table. The table was only five or six little tard steps away, but after about three steps Kunte tripped over his own feet. He came crashing down face first on table, covering himself in glue and macaroni, and toppling the table, macaroni, and glue all over the floor. Antonio pulls his macaroni picture out from under Kunte and starts hitting him with it.
Picture this scene: One screaming tard covered in glue, pasta, and cardboard convulsing on my classroom floor, while another tard beats him with a rolled up, half dry macaroni picture. As this happens, the rest of the tards, even the ones who were just staring at the macaroni bowl, are now screaming, crying, jumping up and down, or trying to hide under the table.
My aides calmed down most of the bystanders. I pulled Kunte off the table and got his change of clothes (yes, we keep a change of clothes for all the tards) out of my cabinet. I punished Antonio for hitting by telling him he had to clean up all the loose macaroni. Because of his obsessive nature, this is appropriate punishment for him, as having to deal with that kind of disorder drives him crazy.
Despite that, most of them still have a lot of trouble getting the general concept. I'll usually end of with one or two students who don't use glue, and a few who don't use macaroni. The pictures they make are so open to interpretation you could use them as a Rorschach test.
The arts and crafts time was progressing as normal, in essence, the tards were yelling occasionally, getting frustrated and ripping up their pictures, or just staring at the big Tupperware bowl of macaroni.
I was circling the table calming them down and encouraging them to participate, when Kunte, who had been in the bathroom, started walking back towards the table. He saw Antonio taking pieces of macaroni off of his drying picture. Kunte yelled "MINE!" and started running towards the table. The table was only five or six little tard steps away, but after about three steps Kunte tripped over his own feet. He came crashing down face first on table, covering himself in glue and macaroni, and toppling the table, macaroni, and glue all over the floor. Antonio pulls his macaroni picture out from under Kunte and starts hitting him with it.
Picture this scene: One screaming tard covered in glue, pasta, and cardboard convulsing on my classroom floor, while another tard beats him with a rolled up, half dry macaroni picture. As this happens, the rest of the tards, even the ones who were just staring at the macaroni bowl, are now screaming, crying, jumping up and down, or trying to hide under the table.
My aides calmed down most of the bystanders. I pulled Kunte off the table and got his change of clothes (yes, we keep a change of clothes for all the tards) out of my cabinet. I punished Antonio for hitting by telling him he had to clean up all the loose macaroni. Because of his obsessive nature, this is appropriate punishment for him, as having to deal with that kind of disorder drives him crazy.
#11: Librarian meets Joe
One of the few pleasures I have in life is my the Tuesday library sessions. Every Tuesday I get to herd the tards down to the library and watch them annoy the fuck out of the librarian. I'm supposed to help her handle the kids, but I get a kick out of watching the tards mutilate library materials and cause general mayhem.
Today I was sipping my Pepsi and perusing the latest sunshine and rainbows bullshit from the "new books" shelf, when I hear yelling from the librarian and my students in the adjacent reading area. I stand up to peer over the little bookcases and I see Joe, one of my fat tards, running around the tables with his shorts around his ankles and a paper-back book held firmly between his ass cheeks. He was making high pitched squealing noises like an animal caught in a trap. He was also managing to evade the librarian who was chasing him, even though he had to occasionally stop to cram the book further up his crack.
I briefly considered walking over and putting and end to the debacle, but since no one was getting hurt I soon decided to sit down and finish "Penguin Pete". If the librarian asks, I'm going to tell her I was in the bathroom.
Today I was sipping my Pepsi and perusing the latest sunshine and rainbows bullshit from the "new books" shelf, when I hear yelling from the librarian and my students in the adjacent reading area. I stand up to peer over the little bookcases and I see Joe, one of my fat tards, running around the tables with his shorts around his ankles and a paper-back book held firmly between his ass cheeks. He was making high pitched squealing noises like an animal caught in a trap. He was also managing to evade the librarian who was chasing him, even though he had to occasionally stop to cram the book further up his crack.
I briefly considered walking over and putting and end to the debacle, but since no one was getting hurt I soon decided to sit down and finish "Penguin Pete". If the librarian asks, I'm going to tell her I was in the bathroom.
#10: Angelo learns not to lie:
Today I was explaining to the students that they need to get their permission slips signed by their parents if they want to go to the field trip. I was diligently repeating to the students that "their parents need to sign the slip, the slip I just gave you, the slip that I'm going to make sure is in each of your book bags when you leave, the slip that I'll have extra copies of if you lose them, the slip that looks like this (holding it up), the yellow permission slip that your parents have to sign." You get the idea.
As I was repeating this over and over to the students, I got clocked in the side of the face with a giant, drool covered wad of paper. This wasn't just any spit ball either, it was fucking humungous. There was so much spit on it you could smell the student's bad breath, and the recoil from the impact almost made me fall over.
I was very shaken up, it took me a few seconds to gain my composure and peal the gooey mass off of my face. It was then that I realized the spit ball from hell was yellow.
Glancing towards the back of the desk area I notice about six comatose tards are missing their yellow permission slips. I know for a fact that none of those six tards could have winged that monster of a projectile at me, as they are barely able to even say their names.
In the middle of these six tards is Angelo, with a desktop covered in drool, and bits of yellow paper stuck to his lips.
I told Angelo that if he wasn't good he wouldn't be able to go on the field trip and I made him sit on the other side of the room. Later I asked Angelo why he threw the spit ball, his reply "What spit ball?". I am really sick of his shit, so I took his desk and put it in the hallway.
After his punishment was over and I told him he could return to his seat. He asked "Where is my desk?" I replied "What desk?"
As I was repeating this over and over to the students, I got clocked in the side of the face with a giant, drool covered wad of paper. This wasn't just any spit ball either, it was fucking humungous. There was so much spit on it you could smell the student's bad breath, and the recoil from the impact almost made me fall over.
I was very shaken up, it took me a few seconds to gain my composure and peal the gooey mass off of my face. It was then that I realized the spit ball from hell was yellow.
Glancing towards the back of the desk area I notice about six comatose tards are missing their yellow permission slips. I know for a fact that none of those six tards could have winged that monster of a projectile at me, as they are barely able to even say their names.
In the middle of these six tards is Angelo, with a desktop covered in drool, and bits of yellow paper stuck to his lips.
I told Angelo that if he wasn't good he wouldn't be able to go on the field trip and I made him sit on the other side of the room. Later I asked Angelo why he threw the spit ball, his reply "What spit ball?". I am really sick of his shit, so I took his desk and put it in the hallway.
After his punishment was over and I told him he could return to his seat. He asked "Where is my desk?" I replied "What desk?"
#9: Tard curses poorly:
I received a letter from a parent today, saying that their child has been using an awful lot of "naughty words". This doesn't surprise me. I don't curse in front of my tards, but there certainly is a lot of foul language flying around my classroom. So today I paid attention to what this particular tard was saying. Some of his "naughty words" were fucking hilarious.
After I told him that he wouldn't have individual play today because he didn't turn in his assignments, he responded "I FUCK MOTHER!".
Out on the playground I heard him yell "You shit fucker," at one of the other students.
While lining up to leave, another student cut in front of him, "Ass fuck me" was his reply.
I really feel like writing his parents back and telling them they should teach their kid how to curse, because what he's learning in my classroom just isn't cutting it.
After I told him that he wouldn't have individual play today because he didn't turn in his assignments, he responded "I FUCK MOTHER!".
Out on the playground I heard him yell "You shit fucker," at one of the other students.
While lining up to leave, another student cut in front of him, "Ass fuck me" was his reply.
I really feel like writing his parents back and telling them they should teach their kid how to curse, because what he's learning in my classroom just isn't cutting it.
#8: Tard likes fire
When you teach tards, you get used to hearing certain noises. Moaning, yelping, or someone's leg repeatedly hitting the desk. Usually I don't stop teaching to tell the tard to be quiet, if I did that my lessons would never end. Instead I tend to continue talking loud enough for everyone else to hear. I've learned to recognize unusual sounds above the normal din of tard mayhem.
While going over our new picture problem book with the class I started to hear an unusual "flicking" sound. I glanced around the desk area to see if anyone looks particularly suspicious. The flicking stops. As soon as I look at the book and start reading again, the flicking continues.
This is the kind of shit that you tend to recognize as trouble, so I stop the class and I ask who is making the noise. No one admits anything so I continue reading. Just then out of the corner of my eye I see an orange flash.
I quickly look over and I see Angelo stuffing a flaming piece of paper into his desk. I race over and tell him to get away from his desk. Angelo responds "Why?"
By this point there is smoke coming out of the inside of the desk, and Angelo is sitting there asking me why he should fucking leave. I grab him by the collar and pull him away from the desk. I then kick over the desk, knocking the flaming papers out of it and stamp them out.
Luckily nothing else caught fire. I ask Angelo how he set the paper on fire, his response, "It just happened."
"Accidents like this don't just happen" I respond, and he says "Must be bad paper".
It was hard for me not to laugh at this point. Angelo honestly expects me to buy the spontaneously combusting yellow school paper theory.
I have him empty his pockets and I find a lighter. After further investigation I find out that he found it on the playground. This might be true, or he might have brought it from home. Either way he won three days of out of school suspension, and the honor of having me inspect his book bag and pockets when he arrives in the morning and when he comes back from recess. Someone really needs to invent a metal-detector-like device that can scan tards for dangerous shit.
While going over our new picture problem book with the class I started to hear an unusual "flicking" sound. I glanced around the desk area to see if anyone looks particularly suspicious. The flicking stops. As soon as I look at the book and start reading again, the flicking continues.
This is the kind of shit that you tend to recognize as trouble, so I stop the class and I ask who is making the noise. No one admits anything so I continue reading. Just then out of the corner of my eye I see an orange flash.
I quickly look over and I see Angelo stuffing a flaming piece of paper into his desk. I race over and tell him to get away from his desk. Angelo responds "Why?"
By this point there is smoke coming out of the inside of the desk, and Angelo is sitting there asking me why he should fucking leave. I grab him by the collar and pull him away from the desk. I then kick over the desk, knocking the flaming papers out of it and stamp them out.
Luckily nothing else caught fire. I ask Angelo how he set the paper on fire, his response, "It just happened."
"Accidents like this don't just happen" I respond, and he says "Must be bad paper".
It was hard for me not to laugh at this point. Angelo honestly expects me to buy the spontaneously combusting yellow school paper theory.
I have him empty his pockets and I find a lighter. After further investigation I find out that he found it on the playground. This might be true, or he might have brought it from home. Either way he won three days of out of school suspension, and the honor of having me inspect his book bag and pockets when he arrives in the morning and when he comes back from recess. Someone really needs to invent a metal-detector-like device that can scan tards for dangerous shit.
#7: Tards have food fight
My tards usually aren't very adept at thinking for themselves. They tend to mimic. Occasionally you'll find that one of them does something the others view as "cool" and they all start in copying it. Unfortunately what that one person does isn't usually cool, in fact it's usually retarded.
This was the case with our ice cream day. The entire class had been rewarded with an afternoon where we ate ice cream and played games. Just as a side note, no one other than the aides pointed out that ice cream day was actually a half day, but what do you expect. Anyway while the tards were eating their ice cream, and I was going around trying to make sure the ice cream went in their mouths, Kunte gets the brilliant idea of starting a food fight.
Kunte grabs a scoop of ice cream from his bowl, screams "FOOD FIGHT!," and smacks himself right in the face with his ice cream. He didn't even know that a food fight meant you throw the food at OTHER PEOPLE!
Almost as soon as he does this, all the tards in the room start grabbing ice cream and smashing their faces with it. It was absolutely amazing.
Eventually my aides and I calmed everyone down. I was trying to figure out how I should punish Kunte, and I asked him where he got the idea for his food fight. He said he saw it on TV, and that someone grabbed a handful of food, stood up, and then he couldn't remember what happened. I considered explaining the concept of a food fight to him, but instead I just sent him home early with a note telling his parents what he did. Maybe they'll tell him.
This was the case with our ice cream day. The entire class had been rewarded with an afternoon where we ate ice cream and played games. Just as a side note, no one other than the aides pointed out that ice cream day was actually a half day, but what do you expect. Anyway while the tards were eating their ice cream, and I was going around trying to make sure the ice cream went in their mouths, Kunte gets the brilliant idea of starting a food fight.
Kunte grabs a scoop of ice cream from his bowl, screams "FOOD FIGHT!," and smacks himself right in the face with his ice cream. He didn't even know that a food fight meant you throw the food at OTHER PEOPLE!
Almost as soon as he does this, all the tards in the room start grabbing ice cream and smashing their faces with it. It was absolutely amazing.
Eventually my aides and I calmed everyone down. I was trying to figure out how I should punish Kunte, and I asked him where he got the idea for his food fight. He said he saw it on TV, and that someone grabbed a handful of food, stood up, and then he couldn't remember what happened. I considered explaining the concept of a food fight to him, but instead I just sent him home early with a note telling his parents what he did. Maybe they'll tell him.
#6: Cops take Tard
Not all of the students that I deal with are there because they have some sort of medical issue. Some of my students are just severe disciplinary problems. One of them, Jason, has "violence" problems. I have had to pry him off of my other students enough that I've really come to dislike his violent behavior. He's the kind of kid that will try to take your lunch, and if he didn't get the satisfaction of taking your lunch he'll kick you in the shin just to spite you.
He was out on the playground the other day, when he started a fight with another student who was heading to the bus horse shoe for a field trip. This student was from the fifth grade, and much, much larger than Jason. Just then Jason does the unthinkable. He pulls a lock-back knife out of his pocket, snaps it open, and charges the fifth grader.
Now "getting shanked by tards" isn't on my job application, but I have to do something, so I sternly yell for Jason to line-up because we're going back inside. The tards didn't notice it was a good 10 minutes before line-up time, but hey, they're retarded. Everyone starts lining up, and Jason comes over, knife still in hand. I ask Jason to give me his "toy" and told him I'd give it to him after school. He hands me the knife, which I immediately close and put in my pocket. I then take Jason inside, call the police, and call the principal. After talking with the principal and the police officer who took Jason away in a squad car I don't think I'll be seeing much of him anymore.
He was out on the playground the other day, when he started a fight with another student who was heading to the bus horse shoe for a field trip. This student was from the fifth grade, and much, much larger than Jason. Just then Jason does the unthinkable. He pulls a lock-back knife out of his pocket, snaps it open, and charges the fifth grader.
Now "getting shanked by tards" isn't on my job application, but I have to do something, so I sternly yell for Jason to line-up because we're going back inside. The tards didn't notice it was a good 10 minutes before line-up time, but hey, they're retarded. Everyone starts lining up, and Jason comes over, knife still in hand. I ask Jason to give me his "toy" and told him I'd give it to him after school. He hands me the knife, which I immediately close and put in my pocket. I then take Jason inside, call the police, and call the principal. After talking with the principal and the police officer who took Jason away in a squad car I don't think I'll be seeing much of him anymore.
Sunday, November 8, 2015
#5: Antonio's Revenge
Antonio and Malcolm got back from their one day of out of school suspension today. I decided not to take the battery out of Malcolm's chair, but I made it clear to him that "your chair is a mobility device, not a weapon. You have to use it appropriately, or you will lose your privilege." I think Malcolm understood most of my message, as he didn't try ramming anyone throughout the morning. In fact, he didn't move at all unless directly told to do so by myself or one of the aides.
Sitting at my desk while the students are solving their picture problems, I suddenly hear loud tard yelling. I stand up and see
Antonio at the other end of the room putting something in Malcolm's hair. Malcolm is flipping out and yelling, but not using his chair to get away. I walk over and find that Antonio, who bites his finger nails, has been saving his fingernails in his pocket and was now placing them in Malcolm's hair.
I grab Antonio by the arm, again, and have one of the aides take Malcolm to the nurses office to get the fingernails out of his bushy, afro-like rats nest of a haircut. I give Antonio extra work and move him to the other side of the room. Later I explain to Malcolm that he can still use his chair if he needs to get away, he just can't ram people with it. Now I'm thinking of over-charging Malcolm's chair so he can run that pain-in-the-ass Antonio over.
Sitting at my desk while the students are solving their picture problems, I suddenly hear loud tard yelling. I stand up and see
Antonio at the other end of the room putting something in Malcolm's hair. Malcolm is flipping out and yelling, but not using his chair to get away. I walk over and find that Antonio, who bites his finger nails, has been saving his fingernails in his pocket and was now placing them in Malcolm's hair.
I grab Antonio by the arm, again, and have one of the aides take Malcolm to the nurses office to get the fingernails out of his bushy, afro-like rats nest of a haircut. I give Antonio extra work and move him to the other side of the room. Later I explain to Malcolm that he can still use his chair if he needs to get away, he just can't ram people with it. Now I'm thinking of over-charging Malcolm's chair so he can run that pain-in-the-ass Antonio over.
#4: Tard has touching problems
One of the interesting things about my job is that I get to deal with all kinds of students. They run the gambit from those barely able to curse at me, to ones that are just mildly retarded and fully capable of telling me off. One of my tards, Leigh suffers from just slightly decreased mental capacity due to her retardation. She is very aware of her surroundings and is quite capable of mimicking actions.
She has had problems in the past with "inappropriate touching", by which I mean she was caught "touching others inappropriately". This is how you phrase it in the letter to a parent, instead of saying "I caught your retarded daughter in the coat room rubbing another tards chest and moaning loudly."
I believe that she learns most of these actions from her mother. A few weeks ago Leigh shared a story of how "mommy has friends that bang her head against the wall all night, but she said it was a good banging". I have Leigh consult me before telling stories to the group now.
Needless to say I found this a little more than disturbing, and I have tried to schedule a meeting with Leigh's parent to talk about this. Of course I haven't heard back, but I'm used to that, she's probably a little too "busy."
Anyway the other day I heard loud "porno-style" moaning from the coat room, and noticed Leigh wasn't at her seat. I went to
investigate, when Leigh waddled out of the coat room as fast as she could with her pants around her ankles. She was moving so quickly that she tripped and slammed onto the floor.
Glancing back at the coat room I saw all the kids lunches open and all the coats piled up in the corner. I have no idea what the fuck was going on, so I pulled up Leigh's pants, buzzed the principal, and told the kids we were all eating at the cafeteria today.
She has had problems in the past with "inappropriate touching", by which I mean she was caught "touching others inappropriately". This is how you phrase it in the letter to a parent, instead of saying "I caught your retarded daughter in the coat room rubbing another tards chest and moaning loudly."
I believe that she learns most of these actions from her mother. A few weeks ago Leigh shared a story of how "mommy has friends that bang her head against the wall all night, but she said it was a good banging". I have Leigh consult me before telling stories to the group now.
Needless to say I found this a little more than disturbing, and I have tried to schedule a meeting with Leigh's parent to talk about this. Of course I haven't heard back, but I'm used to that, she's probably a little too "busy."
Anyway the other day I heard loud "porno-style" moaning from the coat room, and noticed Leigh wasn't at her seat. I went to
investigate, when Leigh waddled out of the coat room as fast as she could with her pants around her ankles. She was moving so quickly that she tripped and slammed onto the floor.
Glancing back at the coat room I saw all the kids lunches open and all the coats piled up in the corner. I have no idea what the fuck was going on, so I pulled up Leigh's pants, buzzed the principal, and told the kids we were all eating at the cafeteria today.
#3: Fun with water
The door to the bathroom stays closed most of the day. The tards know that they need to talk to one of the aides or myself if they have to use it. Each tard is allowed to use the restroom 4 times a day, unless they have some sort of medical condition.
The "4 times a day" rule was started because of Kunte. Kunte always tries to ask different aides if he can leave to use the bathroom. He must ask each aide at least five times a day. Because of this I now keep track of his bathroom usage on the board. I put a check next to his name each time he goes to the bathroom, this way each aide knows if he's used up all his restroom privileges.
Recently I found out why he goes to the bathroom so much.
One morning, I put one of my aides in charge and left to grab a Pepsi from the teachers lounge. As I pass the bathroom I hear frantic splashing and heavy breathing. I knock on the door and ask if everything is OK, the splashing immediately stops. I realize something is up and open the door to see what's going on.
I find Kunte in one of the stalls, on his knees and covered in toilet water. I asked him what he was doing. Apparently he
had been dunking his head in the toilet, flushing, and trying to drink as much as he can. When I asked him why, he responded, "I saw Charles do it."
I walked him down to the office and called his father. I told him that he was apparently emulating a friend or sibling named Charles, and that they might want to do something about it. The father proceeded to tell me that Charles was the family dog.
I had to hang up, it was just too funny.
The "4 times a day" rule was started because of Kunte. Kunte always tries to ask different aides if he can leave to use the bathroom. He must ask each aide at least five times a day. Because of this I now keep track of his bathroom usage on the board. I put a check next to his name each time he goes to the bathroom, this way each aide knows if he's used up all his restroom privileges.
Recently I found out why he goes to the bathroom so much.
One morning, I put one of my aides in charge and left to grab a Pepsi from the teachers lounge. As I pass the bathroom I hear frantic splashing and heavy breathing. I knock on the door and ask if everything is OK, the splashing immediately stops. I realize something is up and open the door to see what's going on.
I find Kunte in one of the stalls, on his knees and covered in toilet water. I asked him what he was doing. Apparently he
had been dunking his head in the toilet, flushing, and trying to drink as much as he can. When I asked him why, he responded, "I saw Charles do it."
I walked him down to the office and called his father. I told him that he was apparently emulating a friend or sibling named Charles, and that they might want to do something about it. The father proceeded to tell me that Charles was the family dog.
I had to hang up, it was just too funny.
#2: Tard likes stretchy things
I generally keep my desk locked. There are many things in there that could hurt a tard, and trust me--the first thing a tard tries to get is the thing that will hurt them the most. Paperclips, rubber bands, pushpins, white out, glue, etc; these are all magnets for curious tard hands. It is for this reason that I try not to unlock my desk unless I absolutely have to.
Today I needed an envelope for a progress letter that I was sending to a parent. I foolishly forgot to re-lock the top drawer of my desk.
Angelo has had problems before with playing with things he shouldn't. He tends to get obsessed with things that stretch when you pull them. He once almost tore the skirt off of one of his classmates because of the way it stretched. Today, because I left my desk open, he managed to get to my rubber band box while I was preparing my first group to walk to PE class.
By the end of the day he started whimpering. I repeatedly asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn't say. He just gave me a teary eyed look and said that he didn't do anything wrong.
Finally as we were lining up to leave he pulls down his pants and starts screaming.
This doesn't surprise me, as it is more common than one might imagine in a tard class. I go to hike his pants back up and ask him what was wrong. It was then that I noticed he had wrapped a rubber band around his penis several times, and that it was starting to turn purple.
I was fucking floored. I walked him down to the nurse, where she removed it and I called his mother to tell her what happened.
I decided not to punish him, I think he's punished himself enough already.
Today I needed an envelope for a progress letter that I was sending to a parent. I foolishly forgot to re-lock the top drawer of my desk.
Angelo has had problems before with playing with things he shouldn't. He tends to get obsessed with things that stretch when you pull them. He once almost tore the skirt off of one of his classmates because of the way it stretched. Today, because I left my desk open, he managed to get to my rubber band box while I was preparing my first group to walk to PE class.
By the end of the day he started whimpering. I repeatedly asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn't say. He just gave me a teary eyed look and said that he didn't do anything wrong.
Finally as we were lining up to leave he pulls down his pants and starts screaming.
This doesn't surprise me, as it is more common than one might imagine in a tard class. I go to hike his pants back up and ask him what was wrong. It was then that I noticed he had wrapped a rubber band around his penis several times, and that it was starting to turn purple.
I was fucking floored. I walked him down to the nurse, where she removed it and I called his mother to tell her what happened.
I decided not to punish him, I think he's punished himself enough already.
#1: Malcolm's Chair of Death
Let me introduce you to Malcolm. He is a retarded child with mobility issues. He can move around in a powered wheelchair by using a pointing device attached to his left finger. It is very hard for Malcolm to use his arms or legs, but he has full control of his facial muscles. He is always finding ways to do things with his mouth and tongue. I once had to pry his face off of the paper towel dispenser because he was "getting a paper towel for Leigh".
Malcolm has serious allergy problems. He is always snorting and lapping at his running nose with his tongue. He spends much of the day looking like he's trying to bite his own face and making noises like a grunting pig on speed.
Yesterday, Malcolm sneezed on Antonio. Antonio proceeded to leap several feet out of his chair and slap Malcolm across the face with his reading book. Antonio was raising the book for another swing when I grabbed his arm and yelled for one
of the aides to call the principal on the intercom.
Thinking the threat was over I turned to start escorting Antonio out. All of the sudden Malcolm rammed his wheelchair full speed into the back of Antonio's leg. He then backed up and hit him again, and was backing up a third time before I placed my foot on the arm of his electric battering ram.
Imagine this scene: I am practically dangling a tard by his arm, while fending off another wheelchair tard with my foot when the principal walks in. Needless to say I received quite a funny look from the principal. Both the boys received a one day suspension. When Malcolm comes back I think I may take the battery out of his chair.
Malcolm has serious allergy problems. He is always snorting and lapping at his running nose with his tongue. He spends much of the day looking like he's trying to bite his own face and making noises like a grunting pig on speed.
Yesterday, Malcolm sneezed on Antonio. Antonio proceeded to leap several feet out of his chair and slap Malcolm across the face with his reading book. Antonio was raising the book for another swing when I grabbed his arm and yelled for one
of the aides to call the principal on the intercom.
Thinking the threat was over I turned to start escorting Antonio out. All of the sudden Malcolm rammed his wheelchair full speed into the back of Antonio's leg. He then backed up and hit him again, and was backing up a third time before I placed my foot on the arm of his electric battering ram.
Imagine this scene: I am practically dangling a tard by his arm, while fending off another wheelchair tard with my foot when the principal walks in. Needless to say I received quite a funny look from the principal. Both the boys received a one day suspension. When Malcolm comes back I think I may take the battery out of his chair.
20: Toots
I had plans to go to a bar called Tonic with some of my girls. The night was going great and I was ready to partake in my share of drinking and dancing at the trendy hot spot. I went up to get what I believe was my third gin and tonic--what my friends claim was my fifth--when a heard a familiar voice.
"Hey! Miss Pell!”
I turned to see Misty’s cousin, Terry the dog groomer, staring down at me. All 320 pounds of flannel wearing Terry was eagerly eyeballing me with her rough, reddish skin and Marlboro Red dangling from the side of her mouth.
"John Goodman, hey.” I was drunk and giggling and I’m not sure she understood what I just said. Plus, I was extremely shocked to see her in this type of club.
"Um…no, it’s Terry, Misty’s cousin.” She said. Maybe Terry never watched Roseanne.
"Yeah, um Terry, I need to get a drink and join my friends and pee. You have a good night.” I needed a way out. Fast.
"Wait, let me buy you a shot. Least I can do,” She offered. Who can pass up a free shot?
She bought me a jager-bomb and as soon as the bartender served it up, I quickly snatched it, downed it, and muttered a quick, “Thanks!” before I dashed away.
This was followed by Terry loudly saying, “No problem toots!”
Puzzled and feeling a vaguely violated, I double fisted the rest of that night.
The next day my friends said I was so drunk that I could barely stand. They said in the cab ride home I kept proclaiming over and over that, “John Goodman called me toots.”
"Hey! Miss Pell!”
I turned to see Misty’s cousin, Terry the dog groomer, staring down at me. All 320 pounds of flannel wearing Terry was eagerly eyeballing me with her rough, reddish skin and Marlboro Red dangling from the side of her mouth.
"John Goodman, hey.” I was drunk and giggling and I’m not sure she understood what I just said. Plus, I was extremely shocked to see her in this type of club.
"Um…no, it’s Terry, Misty’s cousin.” She said. Maybe Terry never watched Roseanne.
"Yeah, um Terry, I need to get a drink and join my friends and pee. You have a good night.” I needed a way out. Fast.
"Wait, let me buy you a shot. Least I can do,” She offered. Who can pass up a free shot?
She bought me a jager-bomb and as soon as the bartender served it up, I quickly snatched it, downed it, and muttered a quick, “Thanks!” before I dashed away.
This was followed by Terry loudly saying, “No problem toots!”
Puzzled and feeling a vaguely violated, I double fisted the rest of that night.
The next day my friends said I was so drunk that I could barely stand. They said in the cab ride home I kept proclaiming over and over that, “John Goodman called me toots.”
19: God Bless America
During activity time, I noticed Daria digging in her butt, as usual. She was standing with her back to the corner, facing me, with both hands down the back of her pants and an odd satisfied grin on her face.
Whenever I catch any student with his or her hand down their pants I’ll remind them that this is not appropriate, ask them if they need to use the restroom, and then make sure they wash their hands.
“Daria, where are your hands?”
Daria smiles and takes them out and hold them in the air to show me.
"Thank you, Daria. Do you need to use the restroom?”
"No, I itch."
"Okay, how about you go wash your hands now.”
Daria begins to waddle to the classroom sink to wash her hands.
Then I noticed something. Peeking over the waistband of her pants, directly above her butt, was our tiny classroom American flag—the kind on a stick that costs a dollar at Wal-mart. It was just flapping in the breeze as she sauntered to the sink to wash her patriotic little hands.
Even though I guess it was a little unpatriotic, I made sure she threw that flag away.
Whenever I catch any student with his or her hand down their pants I’ll remind them that this is not appropriate, ask them if they need to use the restroom, and then make sure they wash their hands.
“Daria, where are your hands?”
Daria smiles and takes them out and hold them in the air to show me.
"Thank you, Daria. Do you need to use the restroom?”
"No, I itch."
"Okay, how about you go wash your hands now.”
Daria begins to waddle to the classroom sink to wash her hands.
Then I noticed something. Peeking over the waistband of her pants, directly above her butt, was our tiny classroom American flag—the kind on a stick that costs a dollar at Wal-mart. It was just flapping in the breeze as she sauntered to the sink to wash her patriotic little hands.
Even though I guess it was a little unpatriotic, I made sure she threw that flag away.
18: Xena Story
This morning went rather well in class. It is funny how the kids calm down and are rather tired on days that it is raining. Maybe because it seems dark outside and they think they should still be asleep. Not a lot happened during morning math, reading and coloring. The highlight of the morning was Sara nibbling a little on her crayon. However, when lunch came around the kids started to perk up.
Usually my assistant sits with the kids at lunch and I get a break, but she was out today. They were all excited to go to the lunchroom since it was a Thursday. Thursdays in our school is chocolate milk day, and they all get two small cartons of it with their lunch.
I had them all seated and I was helping them get situated when I noticed Misty standing up on her chair. She had been ranting about something she’d seen on Xena all morning. (Her parents bought her the first 2 seasons on DVD). She was holding the circular lid to her Tupperware in her hands and was telling Anni that it is her “Chakram” just like Xena’s (I looked it up--it’s some weapon Xena used).
All of a sudden she let’s out this warrior-like scream,
“Ah la la la la la la la la!”
I see Misty whip the lid as hard as she could. It flew, quite well I must say, across the room and nailed Steve in the forehead.
Steve sat for a second, and then summoned all his energy and let out a piercing wail. He let it out with so much force over a span of three minutes that he ended up crapping his pants.
I had to take him to the office to call his parents and explain what a red welt was doing on his forehead.
When I asked Misty about why she threw her Tupperware top at Steve she simply replied, “Steve is the enemy.”
Usually my assistant sits with the kids at lunch and I get a break, but she was out today. They were all excited to go to the lunchroom since it was a Thursday. Thursdays in our school is chocolate milk day, and they all get two small cartons of it with their lunch.
I had them all seated and I was helping them get situated when I noticed Misty standing up on her chair. She had been ranting about something she’d seen on Xena all morning. (Her parents bought her the first 2 seasons on DVD). She was holding the circular lid to her Tupperware in her hands and was telling Anni that it is her “Chakram” just like Xena’s (I looked it up--it’s some weapon Xena used).
All of a sudden she let’s out this warrior-like scream,
“Ah la la la la la la la la!”
I see Misty whip the lid as hard as she could. It flew, quite well I must say, across the room and nailed Steve in the forehead.
Steve sat for a second, and then summoned all his energy and let out a piercing wail. He let it out with so much force over a span of three minutes that he ended up crapping his pants.
I had to take him to the office to call his parents and explain what a red welt was doing on his forehead.
When I asked Misty about why she threw her Tupperware top at Steve she simply replied, “Steve is the enemy.”
17: Sick Daria
Daria got a really bad ear infection and needed to have a minor procedure done. She was in the hospital for a day or two and missed school for a week to recover.
After the third day of her absence, I explained to the class where she was even though no one noticed she was gone. Anni asked with a quivering lip why Daria was in the hospital.
Before I could explain, Jay asks, “Is it because when she spilled Kool-aid on the carpet last week?”
I think maybe Jay has been witness to some domestic violence.
After the third day of her absence, I explained to the class where she was even though no one noticed she was gone. Anni asked with a quivering lip why Daria was in the hospital.
Before I could explain, Jay asks, “Is it because when she spilled Kool-aid on the carpet last week?”
I think maybe Jay has been witness to some domestic violence.
16: Quote from the Playground
On the playground:
Jay runs up to me holding a clump of grass that he had just ripped out of the schoolyard in his hand.
Jay: “Miss Pell, do you have a bag?”
MP: “For what Jay?”
Jay: “For my grass stupid.”
MP: “Jay we don’t call people stupid and we don’t keep grass. Throw it down.”
Jay, said while exiting in a semi-stomping tantrum, “My brother gets to keep his grass in a bag!”
This was followed up by an awkward call from me to Jay’s parents.
Jay runs up to me holding a clump of grass that he had just ripped out of the schoolyard in his hand.
Jay: “Miss Pell, do you have a bag?”
MP: “For what Jay?”
Jay: “For my grass stupid.”
MP: “Jay we don’t call people stupid and we don’t keep grass. Throw it down.”
Jay, said while exiting in a semi-stomping tantrum, “My brother gets to keep his grass in a bag!”
This was followed up by an awkward call from me to Jay’s parents.
15: Meet Misty
Misty is not like most of my kids. Misty is autistic; sort of like Dustin Hoffman in ‘Rainman.’ As if this isn’t enough, she also has Tourettes Syndrome. This means that has an amazing memory, has problems relating to others and interacting socially, and twitches, yelps and swears like a sailor when she gets provoked. It can make for an interesting class.
Misty really enjoys telling stories about television shows she watches at home. She knows everything there is to know about Xena: Warrior Princess, and she can remember so many little details about that show--that’s the autism at work.
Then there is the Tourettes side of Misty.
She has a rather severe case and is on medication to control the spasms and ticks. Sometimes when she’s nervous or angry, she’ll have a mild facial tick here and there. But the obscenities are more difficult to control.
A few days ago, the class was busy working on individual projects when I noticed that Jay was talking rather fiercely to Misty. He was really getting in her face saying something about her drawing. Due to her autism, Misty tends to focus on her tasks intently, thus it is an effort to try and get her to break concentration when we are switching to a new project. Jay was persistent in distracting her and kept right on doing so, yet no matter what he said nothing seemed to be fazing Misty.
I was about to tell Jay’s to stop yammering at Misty, when she stopped coloring and looked up from her drawing. She had a sudden movement where she cocked her head to the right, blinked her eyes a few times, looked at Jay and said,
"Sss…ssslut ass buuhhh-uuuttt fucker!”
Then she simply resumed coloring. Jay glanced towards at me with shock stamped on his face. I gave him a look, and kept on reading my magazine article. He didn't bother her the rest of class.
Misty really enjoys telling stories about television shows she watches at home. She knows everything there is to know about Xena: Warrior Princess, and she can remember so many little details about that show--that’s the autism at work.
Then there is the Tourettes side of Misty.
She has a rather severe case and is on medication to control the spasms and ticks. Sometimes when she’s nervous or angry, she’ll have a mild facial tick here and there. But the obscenities are more difficult to control.
A few days ago, the class was busy working on individual projects when I noticed that Jay was talking rather fiercely to Misty. He was really getting in her face saying something about her drawing. Due to her autism, Misty tends to focus on her tasks intently, thus it is an effort to try and get her to break concentration when we are switching to a new project. Jay was persistent in distracting her and kept right on doing so, yet no matter what he said nothing seemed to be fazing Misty.
I was about to tell Jay’s to stop yammering at Misty, when she stopped coloring and looked up from her drawing. She had a sudden movement where she cocked her head to the right, blinked her eyes a few times, looked at Jay and said,
"Sss…ssslut ass buuhhh-uuuttt fucker!”
Then she simply resumed coloring. Jay glanced towards at me with shock stamped on his face. I gave him a look, and kept on reading my magazine article. He didn't bother her the rest of class.
14: This Pie Tastes Funny
Earlier today I had a moment of peace. My kids were pre-occupied with coloring and being angels for once. I had cut out huge leaves for them and they were given red and brown crayons to color them with for the fall. I think recess had them all semi-tired and that is why they were cooperating, except for Steve, who was just sitting in his chair drooling on his leaf.
My TA came into the class with a small brown paper bag. In it was a small scented candle. Pumpkin Pie scented to be exact. When she handed me the bag, the kids could not sit still wondering what was in the bag. I told them it was a candle. A scented one. I told them it smells like pumpkin pie, but it isn’t made out of pumpkin pie.
This amazed them. They had to smell it. I unwrapped the candle to let the fragrance out and passed it around the room. The kids had fun smelling it and passing it along, until it got to Sara. She smelled it, looked at it, smelled it, and looked at it. I could see the glimmer of “could this be food?” look in her eyes. Before I could run over and grab it from her,
CHOMP!
She took a bite out of the candle. Just chewed the wax until I made her spit it out.
“I like my mom’s pie better,” was her only remark.
I wrapped the candle back in the brown bag and put it in my purse. Tard teeth marks in this candle would surely make for an interesting coffee table discussion.
My TA came into the class with a small brown paper bag. In it was a small scented candle. Pumpkin Pie scented to be exact. When she handed me the bag, the kids could not sit still wondering what was in the bag. I told them it was a candle. A scented one. I told them it smells like pumpkin pie, but it isn’t made out of pumpkin pie.
This amazed them. They had to smell it. I unwrapped the candle to let the fragrance out and passed it around the room. The kids had fun smelling it and passing it along, until it got to Sara. She smelled it, looked at it, smelled it, and looked at it. I could see the glimmer of “could this be food?” look in her eyes. Before I could run over and grab it from her,
CHOMP!
She took a bite out of the candle. Just chewed the wax until I made her spit it out.
“I like my mom’s pie better,” was her only remark.
I wrapped the candle back in the brown bag and put it in my purse. Tard teeth marks in this candle would surely make for an interesting coffee table discussion.
13: Very safe sex
I think some parents don’t understand how much their behavior influences their children. Take Jay for example.
Jay came to school today and kept fidgeting more than normal. He’d scoot around his chair as if he was totally uncomfortable, and kept adjusting his pants. This became a nuisance in class because some of the others thought he getting away with itching his butt, which is a no-no in our classroom.
I took Jay outside in the hall to ask him what was wrong and why he was fidgeting.
Miss Pell "Why do you keep itching?”
Jay "Cause.”
Miss Pell "Cause why?”
Jay "Cause I’m covered.”
Miss Pell "Cause you’re what?”
Jay "I’m covered. I’m safe. I can be around Anni and the other girls now.”
Not knowing what he was talking about, I called two male teachers to come down and asked them to walk Jay into the nurse’s office to investigate. They came back 10 minutes later with grins.
Apparently, Jay’s older brother, who is in a normal class, told Jay that in order for him to be around girls, he needed to be covered. That is, he needed to wear a condom. Otherwise the girls would get pregnant.
I guess his brother put a condom on him the night before and Jay thought it stayed on until you wanted to get a girl pregnant, so he never took it off.
I called his parents and told them to have a talk with their sons.
Jay came to school today and kept fidgeting more than normal. He’d scoot around his chair as if he was totally uncomfortable, and kept adjusting his pants. This became a nuisance in class because some of the others thought he getting away with itching his butt, which is a no-no in our classroom.
I took Jay outside in the hall to ask him what was wrong and why he was fidgeting.
Miss Pell "Why do you keep itching?”
Jay "Cause.”
Miss Pell "Cause why?”
Jay "Cause I’m covered.”
Miss Pell "Cause you’re what?”
Jay "I’m covered. I’m safe. I can be around Anni and the other girls now.”
Not knowing what he was talking about, I called two male teachers to come down and asked them to walk Jay into the nurse’s office to investigate. They came back 10 minutes later with grins.
Apparently, Jay’s older brother, who is in a normal class, told Jay that in order for him to be around girls, he needed to be covered. That is, he needed to wear a condom. Otherwise the girls would get pregnant.
I guess his brother put a condom on him the night before and Jay thought it stayed on until you wanted to get a girl pregnant, so he never took it off.
I called his parents and told them to have a talk with their sons.
12: Pee Water
Today Steve wet his pants. This by itself is not a strange thing to happen in my class, but with Steve it can present unique challenges. Steve is severely handicapped--both physically and mentally, and is confined to a motorized wheelchair.
We were playing with Lincoln logs and trying to work on counting and other coordination activities. Steve was banging his logs on the table in his puddles of drool, so I left him at that while I helped Sara with her counting. Sara informed me that Lincoln Logs reminded her of her grandma’s sausage.
Suddenly, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Anni was standing there all giggling and smiling as she does often. She just kept giggling and didn’t say anything when I asked her what was going on, so I turned around to help Sara again.
Anni tapped me on the shoulder again. “Hehehehehe Miss Pell, hehehehe Stevie is leaking. Hehehe.”
Since Anni usually doesn’t make sense anyway, I ignored her for the second time to pick up Sara’s logs so she would not try to nibble/eat/swallow them. As I was putting them back in the bin, I felt another tap on my shoulder.
It was Jay this time. Now, Jay knows right from wrong. He has severe ADHD and he is a VERY slow learner, but other than that, he’s the most normal in the class.
He is holding Anni’s hand while she still giggles. He points at Steve, who from here I can see has a dark blue stain in the crotch of his baby blue sweat pants. There was so much urine that it managed to pour down the sides of his motorized chair. I was unclear when exactly the wetting had occurred, and was about to ask Jay about this when he says,
"Steve spilt water, but it tastes acky!,” he says while making a face like he just sucked a lemon.
Oh please no.
I called my TA and they took Steve to the office for cleaning. I then made Jay drink a lot of juice and wash his hands. I wouldn't tell him why, nor did I ask him how he knew what that "water" tasted like.
We were playing with Lincoln logs and trying to work on counting and other coordination activities. Steve was banging his logs on the table in his puddles of drool, so I left him at that while I helped Sara with her counting. Sara informed me that Lincoln Logs reminded her of her grandma’s sausage.
Suddenly, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Anni was standing there all giggling and smiling as she does often. She just kept giggling and didn’t say anything when I asked her what was going on, so I turned around to help Sara again.
Anni tapped me on the shoulder again. “Hehehehehe Miss Pell, hehehehe Stevie is leaking. Hehehe.”
Since Anni usually doesn’t make sense anyway, I ignored her for the second time to pick up Sara’s logs so she would not try to nibble/eat/swallow them. As I was putting them back in the bin, I felt another tap on my shoulder.
It was Jay this time. Now, Jay knows right from wrong. He has severe ADHD and he is a VERY slow learner, but other than that, he’s the most normal in the class.
He is holding Anni’s hand while she still giggles. He points at Steve, who from here I can see has a dark blue stain in the crotch of his baby blue sweat pants. There was so much urine that it managed to pour down the sides of his motorized chair. I was unclear when exactly the wetting had occurred, and was about to ask Jay about this when he says,
"Steve spilt water, but it tastes acky!,” he says while making a face like he just sucked a lemon.
Oh please no.
I called my TA and they took Steve to the office for cleaning. I then made Jay drink a lot of juice and wash his hands. I wouldn't tell him why, nor did I ask him how he knew what that "water" tasted like.
11: Pie
While walking past the cafeteria on the way to the library, Erik started crying. Jay yelled at him:
Jay "Shut your pie hole!”
Sara, while running up to Jay, "Who has pie !?!?”
Jay "Shut your pie hole!”
Sara, while running up to Jay, "Who has pie !?!?”
10: Spaghetti a la Sara
All my kids are sick today. When one of them gets a cold, they all get it.
There has been a strain of bug going around the school, and of course my kids are always the first to pick it up and pass it on to each other since they are always sneezing and coughing all over the place.
Sara had it the worst this time. Her pudgy little hands felt cool and clammy all morning. She even said no to having milk at snack time. This is a first. I have never seen her refuse food before.
She looked so drained and splotchy that I called her mom to see if she could possibly take her home. But there was no one at home to watch her, and her mom could not take the time off of work. So, my class was Sara’s only option.
Around lunch time, she looked a smidgen better but maybe it was because knew she was going to eat soon. Sara’s mom had packed spaghetti and some brownie bites in her lunch. Sara ate only half of her lunch when I saw her trotting over to where I was sitting. Her face was totally drained of color and her bottom lip was quivering.
“Miss Pell,” she was almost in tears, “I don’t feel good.”
I called my aide over to watch my kids while I took Sara to the nurse’s office. We got about half way there when suddenly:
“Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”
A mixture of regurgitated spaghetti and brownie bites lay in the middle of the hallway. Knowing the older kids were coming in from recess soon, I rushed Sara to the nurse and turned to go alert the janitor as quickly as possible. The janitor was nowhere to be found. This mess had to be cleaned, so I bucked up and grabbed a mop.
As I was mopping and holding back the gags, I noticed something in her mess. I bent down to look. It was tiny as hell, but noticeably it was car-shaped and not a piece of food. From what I could remember of my childhood, it was a Micro-Machine.
The first thing that came to mind was, “Do they still make these things?”
There has been a strain of bug going around the school, and of course my kids are always the first to pick it up and pass it on to each other since they are always sneezing and coughing all over the place.
Sara had it the worst this time. Her pudgy little hands felt cool and clammy all morning. She even said no to having milk at snack time. This is a first. I have never seen her refuse food before.
She looked so drained and splotchy that I called her mom to see if she could possibly take her home. But there was no one at home to watch her, and her mom could not take the time off of work. So, my class was Sara’s only option.
Around lunch time, she looked a smidgen better but maybe it was because knew she was going to eat soon. Sara’s mom had packed spaghetti and some brownie bites in her lunch. Sara ate only half of her lunch when I saw her trotting over to where I was sitting. Her face was totally drained of color and her bottom lip was quivering.
“Miss Pell,” she was almost in tears, “I don’t feel good.”
I called my aide over to watch my kids while I took Sara to the nurse’s office. We got about half way there when suddenly:
“Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”
A mixture of regurgitated spaghetti and brownie bites lay in the middle of the hallway. Knowing the older kids were coming in from recess soon, I rushed Sara to the nurse and turned to go alert the janitor as quickly as possible. The janitor was nowhere to be found. This mess had to be cleaned, so I bucked up and grabbed a mop.
As I was mopping and holding back the gags, I noticed something in her mess. I bent down to look. It was tiny as hell, but noticeably it was car-shaped and not a piece of food. From what I could remember of my childhood, it was a Micro-Machine.
The first thing that came to mind was, “Do they still make these things?”
9: Crappy Date Night
After a day of cleaning up drool, teaching how to count to three and how to color in the lines, I went out per usual with my TA for happy hour. We went our favorite watering hole, Doogan's.
While we were there this tall, attractive man asked for my number and asked if we could have dinner the next night. I agreed. He then asked where I worked, it seemed to be rather close to his work, so he asked if he could pick me up there. I agreed. By the way, I told him I was just a K-5 teacher. Not a K-5 sped teacher.
He came by and saw my kids while we were waiting for the bus and parents to pick everyone up, and didn't seem to be bothered. After 45 minutes one kid remained, Daria. I knew her parents only lived about a mile from the school, but they tend to forget to pick her up from time to time due to their conflicting schedules.
I asked my date if we could drive her home. He said it’d be alright, although he was very hesitant. I think he could tell something was not right with her but I said nothing. As we were driving, I saw her house a few blocks down, and smiled because we were almost in the clear and she had been a perfect angel.
No sooner did I have this thought when I hear, “Hey Mister!…(giggle, giggle)….smell!”
Daria digs in her pants a lot--in her butt to be specific. I turned to see a small arm reaching from the back seat (Yes, I forgot to buckle her up, so sue me, it was a mile to her house and she was in the back seat). I then followed the line of her arm to see that she had her poop-laden finger directly under my dates nose.
He turned bright red and stared at me in horror while I laughed. We ended up going back to the same Doogan's where we had met the night before. After one drink and very little conversation on his end, he nervously said,
"Oh, I forgot, I have something to do on the other side of town, could you get a cab home if I paid for it?”
I haven’t heard from him since. It’s just tard poo, dick.
While we were there this tall, attractive man asked for my number and asked if we could have dinner the next night. I agreed. He then asked where I worked, it seemed to be rather close to his work, so he asked if he could pick me up there. I agreed. By the way, I told him I was just a K-5 teacher. Not a K-5 sped teacher.
He came by and saw my kids while we were waiting for the bus and parents to pick everyone up, and didn't seem to be bothered. After 45 minutes one kid remained, Daria. I knew her parents only lived about a mile from the school, but they tend to forget to pick her up from time to time due to their conflicting schedules.
I asked my date if we could drive her home. He said it’d be alright, although he was very hesitant. I think he could tell something was not right with her but I said nothing. As we were driving, I saw her house a few blocks down, and smiled because we were almost in the clear and she had been a perfect angel.
No sooner did I have this thought when I hear, “Hey Mister!…(giggle, giggle)….smell!”
Daria digs in her pants a lot--in her butt to be specific. I turned to see a small arm reaching from the back seat (Yes, I forgot to buckle her up, so sue me, it was a mile to her house and she was in the back seat). I then followed the line of her arm to see that she had her poop-laden finger directly under my dates nose.
He turned bright red and stared at me in horror while I laughed. We ended up going back to the same Doogan's where we had met the night before. After one drink and very little conversation on his end, he nervously said,
"Oh, I forgot, I have something to do on the other side of town, could you get a cab home if I paid for it?”
I haven’t heard from him since. It’s just tard poo, dick.
8: Brownie Bites
Since fall is right around the corner and the chill is evident in the morning air, I decided to let the kids play games outside today. Before we went outside, we had lunch. Today Sara’s mom packed her a turkey sandwich (no mayo Sara announced) and carrot sticks instead of these brownie bites she usually has.
After Sara cried and had a tantrum for about 20 minutes upon finding this sub-par lunch, she finally sat down at her desk and inhaled her lunch. I think she chewed twice. We decided what games to play outside and I released them.
It was so nice out that I decided to bring Tucker Max’s book out with me for some entertainment. As I read, I casually scanned the grounds after every other paragraph, making sure the kids were all behaving.
I saw Jay and Anni doing some animal impression, but as long as they weren’t hooking the vacuum up to her it was fine. Then I saw Sara sitting on the grass near the fence, by herself, picking at stuff. I figured she was still upset about having to eat carrot sticks today, so I let her be.
After 45 minutes I called the class together and we went inside. We were settled in and about to read a book when I heard Misty speak up from the back. “Miss Pell, Sara isn’t sharing her treats.” I went to the back to see what Sara was doing. When I got to her desk, I saw three hard cylindrical objects sitting on her desk. By the smell alone, I knew immediately what they were.
Sara had three hardened dog turds sitting on her desk. From the looks, I’d say they came from a shih-tzu or some medium sized dog in the toy group. [Now while I tell this last part, remember I just saw dog crap on the kids desk and in my mind I was running over the vision of her sitting and picking at stuff near the fence just minutes before, so my late reaction is justified]
Bright eyed Sara looks at me and says, “I found my brownie bites” and no shit, the kid popped one in her mouth like it was, well…a brownie bite.
OH MY GOD!
I didn’t know what to do. I stood frozen in horror as I watched her chew and ingest the canine fecal matter with the look of content and ecstasy on her plump face. She’d been outside eating turds for a half hour already, what could one more do?
I quickly snagged the other two and threw them away. I didn’t know what to do, so I called her to the front of the room, gave her a couple tic tacs, and tried to forget what.
After Sara cried and had a tantrum for about 20 minutes upon finding this sub-par lunch, she finally sat down at her desk and inhaled her lunch. I think she chewed twice. We decided what games to play outside and I released them.
It was so nice out that I decided to bring Tucker Max’s book out with me for some entertainment. As I read, I casually scanned the grounds after every other paragraph, making sure the kids were all behaving.
I saw Jay and Anni doing some animal impression, but as long as they weren’t hooking the vacuum up to her it was fine. Then I saw Sara sitting on the grass near the fence, by herself, picking at stuff. I figured she was still upset about having to eat carrot sticks today, so I let her be.
After 45 minutes I called the class together and we went inside. We were settled in and about to read a book when I heard Misty speak up from the back. “Miss Pell, Sara isn’t sharing her treats.” I went to the back to see what Sara was doing. When I got to her desk, I saw three hard cylindrical objects sitting on her desk. By the smell alone, I knew immediately what they were.
Sara had three hardened dog turds sitting on her desk. From the looks, I’d say they came from a shih-tzu or some medium sized dog in the toy group. [Now while I tell this last part, remember I just saw dog crap on the kids desk and in my mind I was running over the vision of her sitting and picking at stuff near the fence just minutes before, so my late reaction is justified]
Bright eyed Sara looks at me and says, “I found my brownie bites” and no shit, the kid popped one in her mouth like it was, well…a brownie bite.
OH MY GOD!
I didn’t know what to do. I stood frozen in horror as I watched her chew and ingest the canine fecal matter with the look of content and ecstasy on her plump face. She’d been outside eating turds for a half hour already, what could one more do?
I quickly snagged the other two and threw them away. I didn’t know what to do, so I called her to the front of the room, gave her a couple tic tacs, and tried to forget what.
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