A lesson in function

I started crying on the way to school this morning. It wasn't really triggered by anything but what started as a few small tears soon escalated into a full on emotional breakdown. It took ten minutes of consolation for me to even walk into school and the first thing my students asked me was, "Miss, why are your eyes wet?"

During my kids' music class, I called my parents to hear  some reassuring advice. I questioned: Why am I doing this? Why not go back to the States? Am I passionate about this? I'm 23! At this point I won't be in grad school until my (gasp!) mid-late 20s.

My kids came back from music class and the Spanish teacher came into the classroom. She took one look at me and asked, "Are you ok?" I was able to say, "Yeah, I'm fffiiii..." and then the tears came again. I was so surprised at the onslaught of tears that at this point I was half crying, half laughing at my pathetic self. She took me to the bathroom, calmed me down and offered some very motherly advice.

After pulling myself together, we started to leave for the field trip nightmare. Any field trip induces way too much excitement in six year olds, but especially ones where they get to go shopping to learn about purchasing food. To make matters worse, we were walking on this field trip. The supermarket is close to the school so walking is logical, except when you think about walking with 23 overly excited, unaware six year olds.

We split the class into two groups. I took my group towards the main doors and waited there for the other teacher and her group to come. We were waiting and waiting, the children were chatting and suddenly I hear: "MISS!!!!!" and see six children point to the ground. I look and see what appears to be a splatter of liquid right next to me. I begin to think "What could they have carried that would make this mess? Water? Some kind of fruit? What could they have thrown with that much force...." And then I see it. I look up and see a sweet, six year old face covered in liquid and mysterious chunks.

The liquid was vomit. He had vomited. Without warning. Right. Next. To. Me. 


Immediately my teacher instincts kicked in and I worried about the kid, but he seemed unfazed. Laughing it off as a normal bodily function. This is the same kid who weeks prior, peed on himself then took the plastic bag of urine laced khakis and threw it up and down in the classroom, as if playing a game. Someone needs to tell him that bodily functions are gross.

Of course, at this exact moment, the other group shows up. So now there are 23 children screaming about vomit in an echo inducing overhang. Oh yes, and simultaneously the other teacher realizes she left the money in the classroom and leaves me alone with 23 children screaming about vomit. I am yelling, my voice amplified by the overhang, and trying to get the children away from the vomit. A fifth grade teacher comes out of her classroom and gives me the death stare as she closes her classroom door as if to ask, "Can't you control your students?" Hey, Miss, it's vomit. You come and try to fix it.

From that moment on there were no more tears. A kid had just puked right next to me without warning. No sign of illness or complaints of a stomach. Just a good old fashioned upchuck and then he was fine. The whole situation was too hilarious for more tears. It was all I needed to turn my whole day around.