Thursday, May 10, 2007
He who smelt it
Students are those people that make my job significantly more difficult than it has to be.
They are the ones that do strange and unexpected things all day, cause my hair to turn a shade of gray.
Having been with this particular group of munchkins for nearly an entire year I sometimes think I can predict their actions. I sometimes suffer the delusion that I know what they are thinking.
Today I had one such hallucination.
I left the classroom while the kids was engrossed in one of the more adventurous moments in the movie to make them a few bags of popcorn.
When I returned, popcorn in hand, all the boys were congregated around the trashcan. Four boys giggle at the garbage.
This does not bode well.
Opening the door caused the boys to scatter like so many cockroaches when the lights come up.
The snickering suddenly stops.
Something is amiss. Students sitting stonily in their seats smiling suspiciously. *
Suddenly there is a POP from the direction of the recently intriguing trash. A smell slowly seeps around the room.
The giggles start up again.
I sigh, repeat “just one more day” in my head three times, and then made my way to the fascinating receptacle.
“Hidden” under a few sheets of paper was a shiny wrapper that told the whole story.
Fart Bomb.
Just one more day.
Just one more day.
Just one more day.
* I freaking love alliteration.
They are the ones that do strange and unexpected things all day, cause my hair to turn a shade of gray.
Having been with this particular group of munchkins for nearly an entire year I sometimes think I can predict their actions. I sometimes suffer the delusion that I know what they are thinking.
Today I had one such hallucination.
I left the classroom while the kids was engrossed in one of the more adventurous moments in the movie to make them a few bags of popcorn.
When I returned, popcorn in hand, all the boys were congregated around the trashcan. Four boys giggle at the garbage.
This does not bode well.
Opening the door caused the boys to scatter like so many cockroaches when the lights come up.
The snickering suddenly stops.
Something is amiss. Students sitting stonily in their seats smiling suspiciously. *
Suddenly there is a POP from the direction of the recently intriguing trash. A smell slowly seeps around the room.
The giggles start up again.
I sigh, repeat “just one more day” in my head three times, and then made my way to the fascinating receptacle.
“Hidden” under a few sheets of paper was a shiny wrapper that told the whole story.
Fart Bomb.
Just one more day.
Just one more day.
Just one more day.
* I freaking love alliteration.
posted by Jody @ 4:24 PM 
