Tracks to Clementine

Rosie the Ratter
or
Taking Jobs Away from Our Boys
or
Don't Fret, There's a Segue into a New Topic at the End

We've come full circle, kids. In the past months there have been rat sounds, rat sightings, rat nibblings, rat droppings, boxes of rat poison (full), and boxes of rat poison (empty). This morning the inevitable arrived: Dead Rat Body.

Turns out I'm girlier than I thought; I screamed when I saw it. It wasn't a housewife-on-a-stool shriek, but a breathy low gasp of a scream sturdy enough to hurt the joints of my toes. When I realized that I was the only one home, I panicked: Boys cannot do the Boys' Job if Boys are not at home. I was trapped. Alone. I would have to concoct a Dead Rat Plan. I started wandering around the house in bigger and bigger circles, each time stopping at Mr. Tumnus the First and wondering about body temperature and rigor mortis and how to avoid finding out about either with any part of my own body.

Five minutes, one old mop and one open door to the balcony later, the rat was gone and I was out the door to teach.

Less than an hour into teaching, one of my students banged his head against the corner of a block. Man, head wounds are bloody. I scooped him out of there before any of the other students really noticed, concocted a fabulous gauze bandage, and we returned to class. Because 1st and 2nd graders think my jokes are really funny, there are now twelve students off and on repeating that Andrew got a "head start" on his hat for this afternoon. (At least it stopped them from trying to stick their fingers into gooey mats of hair.)

Dead rats, wounds-to-the-head, and bad jokes. How's bayou?

(PS: Dear Mr. President, if I say to a student "Do not hit others with blocks" it turns out that student can use your policies as a reason why hitting others with blocks is okay. I'm sending him to your house. Respectfully, Ida.)

Posted by Ida at February 18, 2003 01:12 PM