In the jungle of data through which I machete my way on a daily basis, I am pretty sure that the only place I reign supreme is on the list of Most Kids to Nurse’s Office. It’s a well-kept secret that I teach the only class of 75-year-old fifth graders in our school’s history. Never mind my admonitions to show me the blood, or to pull the garbage can next to their desk “just in case.” They produce the blood, they hurl on the floor, they limp and wince and get wheeled out of my room in wheel chairs.
I do have a cohort of little darlings who have legit medical issues, and their numbers would normally keep me busy. But this year, I also have attracted several young folks who apparently have the weakest of constitutions. Not to mention Hypochondriac #1. He may need to cut his losses and just go to Broadway, as trivial details like academics and attendance are not his strong point. Musical theater, I’m thinking– he challenges his audience to practice willing suspension of disbelief each and every day. After each desperately needed visit to the nurse, his recovery is so miraculous, that he can actually SPRINT up the stairs, around the halls, and eventually back to class, where he collapses across his desk, unable to complete any exhausting task I may request.
I live to serve.