Projectiles, Chapter 998

I’m still sick and scratchy today, with an allergic reaction to something that’s causing my right eye to be all red and sore, also. What a mess.

In my 2nd 6th grade class of boys today, all was going fairly smoothly until I let my guard down and let one side of the room out of my field of vision. At that point I got hit in between the eyes by a crayon, hard. At that point I shut down the class and had to spend the rest of the hour playing detective. Of course I didn’t know who did it. Of course no one admitted to it. Of course no one wanted to give me any names until they themselves were being interrogated.

A few boys sidled up and gave me names of people they claimed to have seen throw crayons. For the kids who have had a problem with throwing things in the past, I called home and let parents know of my suspicions, at least.

I hate calling home on suspicions, and I hate mysterious flying objects.

What a bunch of bananaheads. Tomorrow is our last day together. Maybe I should start beaning some kids in the head with school supplies, just for a change in pace.

Before all hell broke loose, I had an awkward discussion with the boys brought up by the Breast Cancer fundraiser going on today.

Boy 1: Why do we need to raise money for that? I don’t have breastses.
Me: (Not thinking through my answer very well.) Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t care.
Boy 1: *snicker* Oh… yeah, I care…
Boy 2: (Indignantly) I only want to care about my girlfriend’s breastses!
Me: …
Boy 3: (whisper, to friend) Wait, are they talking about…?

Ah… the future of our nation.
On the bright side, yesterday my second interview went really well. Despite my lack of voice, I taught two sample lessons to a Kindergarten and a 1st grade class (Heeeyyyy kiiiids…. sorry for the funny voice…) and got a tour of the school. If they can offer me a full time position, I believe I’ll take it. There aren’t any other applicants, and they like me, so things look good. Keep your fingers crossed.


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