Monday, October 23, 2006
Head Bangin'
I have a student that makes my brain dribble out my ears.
He is a bright kid. When the lights are on upstairs he can answer questions correctly and is occasionally amazingly insightful.
But when the lights are off, it is a dark dark day.
Or few days.
Or week.
Sometimes I just want to bang my head against a wall in hope of normalizing the world.
Sometimes I do it. But then there is the dizziness and the confusion that follows a concussion. Not always a good thing.
Though meeting the wall with my forehead is a cheaper change of mindset than can be achieved by drugs or alcohol.
Today there was an incident with a bottle of Elmer’s glue.
He seemed to think that the table looked better white.
And sticky.
The cleaning process involved a 2 inch thick layer of soap bubbles and the splashing of water everywhere.
He also seemed to think that the entire class desperately needed to know the state of his bowels. And upon returning from the restroom, he graced us with a description of what he managed to produce.
He is the type of child that makes me think longingly about the 1940’s.
Makes me wish for a different profession.
Makes me wish for vast amounts of chocolate.
I think it’s time to assume the fetal position under my desk.
He is a bright kid. When the lights are on upstairs he can answer questions correctly and is occasionally amazingly insightful.
But when the lights are off, it is a dark dark day.
Or few days.
Or week.
Sometimes I just want to bang my head against a wall in hope of normalizing the world.
Sometimes I do it. But then there is the dizziness and the confusion that follows a concussion. Not always a good thing.
Though meeting the wall with my forehead is a cheaper change of mindset than can be achieved by drugs or alcohol.
Today there was an incident with a bottle of Elmer’s glue.
He seemed to think that the table looked better white.
And sticky.
The cleaning process involved a 2 inch thick layer of soap bubbles and the splashing of water everywhere.
He also seemed to think that the entire class desperately needed to know the state of his bowels. And upon returning from the restroom, he graced us with a description of what he managed to produce.
He is the type of child that makes me think longingly about the 1940’s.
Makes me wish for a different profession.
Makes me wish for vast amounts of chocolate.
I think it’s time to assume the fetal position under my desk.
posted by Jody @ 12:42 PM 
