Monday, April 03, 2006

The Trial of Tears

For the past few weeks I have been helping out my principal and assisting with lunch-duty.
This requires me to sit in the cafeteria while the littlest school-goers eat their lunch and then play themselves out with balls, wheeled platforms, and parachutes.

This could be an easy time for harmless fun.
But, no.
We are talking about very short people. The kind that cry.
For no reason.

Added into the fun is the low English language proficiency among the smallest of the shriekers. So as they tearfully stare expectantly at me, I have no idea what they are saying or if they even fully understand my questions.

It is a daily journey into insanity.

But today was the best.

One of my regular criers was in hysterics about a possible injury that may or may not have been sustained with the help of one or more people. It was all very confused, aided by the use of grand hand gestures and a series of moans punctuated by hiccupping sobs.

By the sounds of things, I was looking for gushing blood or broken bones.

Suddenly, out of nowhere a basketball entered the scene. It rolled past my foot and into arms reach of this tear-stained child.

The tears were gone.
The pain vanished from his face.

He had a ball, the morphine of small children everywhere.

I threw my hands up in resignation. I cannot win.

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