The day had been fairly normal. At recess time (around 1:30), the teacher next door to me had to go to the office to have her post evaluation conference with the principal, so her students came into my room for inside recess. So now, I have 32 kids in my room for inside recess (oh, joy). Now, I have to say that her kids are
As I breathed a sigh of relief, I got my kids quieted down and focused back on their work. We were making a book about animals in winter and they were supposed to cut out and glue captions under the pictures on the page. About this time, one of my sweet little firsties (we'll call her Mary), got up to go to the bathroom. In our room, they know that they do not have to ask to go if they are working at their seat. I notice her going, but I don't think anything about it. About 5 min. later or so, I start to call kids up to get their folders and get ready to go home. I call a few kids, and then I notice that Mary is still in the bathroom. At this point, I'm not really worried about it, but I do start to watch the clock to see how long she's in there. About 5 minutes later, I'm noticing that she's still not out, so I call out, "Mary, you need to hurry up. It's about time to go". A couple minutes later, still no Mary. So, I repeat, "Mary, come on, you need to get packed up!" Still no Mary. Finally, I
I look up and notice that she is standing there covered in blood (and I mean blood on her shirt, her arms, her face)!!!!
After putting my eyes back in my head and taking a deep breath, I
"I cut my lip."
"How did you cut your lip in the bathroom?"
"With my scissors." - Oh yeah, why didn't I think of that? Of course - how else would you cut your lip in the bathroom?
"Why did you cut your lips with scissors?" I ask.
To which one of my other little sweeties replied, "Because she glued her lips together!"
"WHAT!!!??? Why in the world would you glue your lips together?"
"I don't know."
Since it is now about 2 minutes before the end of school, I decide not to send her to the clinic. I just sent her into the bathroom (after confiscating the scissors) to wash herself up. Her mom walks to pick her up each day, so I just stuck my head out my door (luckily, my room is on the end of the building right next to the gate) and called her mom over. I explained what happened, and she really wasn't surprised. Her response, "That's why she's not allowed to have scissors at home. She's cut her hair 3 times." Seriously??
She came in today and you really couldn't tell that she had done anything. Apparently she not only has a high tolerance for pain (I mean, I get a little cut on my lip and I'm crying like a baby - she didn't really even bat an eye) but also incredible healing powers.
I know that this is nowhere near the caliber of Kristin's finger story, but seriously, that's all I could think of last night as I was telling my husband about it. Is it bad that when something like this happens, my mind goes immediately to a blog post?