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By: Miss Coty. A Kindergarten teacher
Dear Diary,
Today I got to lead the line coming in from lunch recess, I ended up with juice on my shoe and nacho cheese on my shirt, but I managed to get them all lined up and marched toward the building. Unfortunately the damn 6th graders decided they needed to cut across a line of kindergarteners with the attention span of gnats, so I lost half of my class and had to go looking for them while the front of the line waited against the wall socializing with the passing throngs like they were in a singles bar!
When I finally got everyone rounded up and we were heading back to class one little girl told me, “Miss Coty you are really slow!”.
Yeah well you’ve got ketchup on your shirt and your shoe is untied! I didn’t really say that — I just laughed and smiled… I do that a lot… Such sweet darling children.
The next thing that happened was a small boy having a complete meltdown. When he got himself somewhat under control, I made the mistake of complementing him on his fine handwriting.
This apparently was the trigger button to increase said meltdown and he screamed at me “LET ME DO IT MYSELF!!!!!” I did my normal smiling routine and thought to myself, ‘Quit pointing at your brain, get your finger out of your nose and do it then!’
That afternoon at recess I broke up a fight using my trusty whistle, and had yet another child scream in my face that he was thirsty. No amount of talking could make him shut up, so he just repeated the mantra over and over, “I AM THIRSTY!!”
Well then sweety, let’s hope you don’t find a bone in your water and choke!
After returning to class and getting everyone settled down another future brain surgeon informed me that, “You don’t know very much Miss Coty”.
God, will 3:15 never come?!
The most violent part of my new career as a kindergarten aide occurred not soon after recess when another boy decided to completely lose it and threw not only his pencil and his body across the room, but bashed the teacher in the head with his own head after taking a swing and bopping me in the face with his hand… Time out chair? Why yes, I think that might be in order.
My moles seem to be an endless source of fascination and it’s really hard to sound out ssss-puh-llllll-it when you are being poked in the face with a tiny grubby finger and answering the question “what’s that Miss Coty?”
Now that I’ve broken out with a cold sore I can’t wait till they decide to ask me “what’s that festering boil on your chin?!”
My favorite part, though, is when they aren’t paying attention and they are spelling words like HIT and the teacher tells them to, “Put away your H and get out your S,” and they don’t hear the ‘put away your H’ part they just get out their S and tack it on the front… I think to myself,
“Good Lord you’re a genius, my boy, you’ve spelled SHIT!”
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