Thursday, January 9, 2014

Recipe For Disaster


 Working these last two weeks at dayscare has been like watching a disaster movie.
  Like pouring salt on a slug.
  Like making a cereal killer your therapist.
 Winter has turned the children into monsters or bears or something.

  Like the other day, when I saw a kid playing by his self, and I didn't want him to feel lonely, so I went over to play with him. 
  We play so nicely for a bit, and then he stops abruptly, looks up at me and says, "I going to do whatever I want, and you can't boss me not to!" 
  I raise my eyebrows. Alright, tiger, let's go.
  He glances at the Christmas tree.
 And I was all, "Now, son...don't you touch that Christmas tree."
 And he was like on Finding Nemo, when Nemo's dad told him not to touch the boat.
Now, I know what you're thinking: Was he kidnapped by a dentist, and did I have to swim to P. Sherman 42 Wallaby Way Sydney to find him?
No.
No, sadly, I did not.
I do, however, sit his tail in timeout.

He frowns highly upon my actions, and jumps from his seat.
As he runs circles around the room, you can see it in his eyes. 
The excitement.
The danger.
The YOLO.
 I observe him a bit (for science) then I approach him cautiously and help him back into his chair.
 He stares at me for 3 seconds, and then his eyes roll back in his head, and he falls on the floor.
 This isn't the first time a child has pulled this on me, and I always fall for it.
   Every single time.
 I react immediately, rushing over to him, and this is how he repays me for my genuine concern...
   He scratches me, kicks me, and runs away.


                               Still waiting for my combat pay.
                          I rocked my Peanuts band-aid, though.

 So, jump ahead 2 or 3 days.
  I'm walking around the room (patrolling if you will) when I notice these white, wet/powdery chunks on the floor. 
  Oh, something new.
   I follow the trail. 
 It leads to a small child hovering in the corner, chalk caked on his face and mouth.
   He ate the chalk. 
 All of it, except this one tiny piece of mush that I used to leave a note for Miss Lynn...
  Which looks suspicious, now that I think about it. Kinda makes it look like I'm hoarding chalk and tried to blame a 2 year-old for its disappearance, or something.

 Shortly afterwards, this happened.
I don't even know where that water came from.

 But then again, I didn't know that 2 year-olds had the ability to break a Hotwheel into three pieces, either.

On the brighter side of things, the latchkey have accepted me as their authority, and I've had no problems from them, except for occasional short jokes. 

   A lady called the daycare today. 
   She told me she'd had experience with being a teacher's aid and she asked if we were hiring.
  "Yeah, sure! Come on over! You can have my job right now."
       No, I didn't say that, but it crossed my mind.

  When I got off the phone with her, I went back in with the kids. They were playing a game, and everyone was taking their turns from smallest to biggest kid.

  "You can go before us latchkey kids." said Skylar.
  And suddenly I felt guilty for wanting to leave.
  "So we won't get bored while we're waiting, and we'll have something to laugh at." he finished.
  And suddenly I didn't feel guilty anymore.

 Anyway, all in all it wasn't a bad week.



  
                     Oh, wait...
















                         That's right...















             We didn't get paid again.











Monday, October 21, 2013

The Adventures of Germie



  I walk into work today, and Lynn greets me with an interesting dance, which I think was meant to project her extreme level of excitement.
 "Cherith! I have to show you something!" and she takes off running. So, I take off after her.
  I've had lots of practice chasing people, because two year olds often don't like to stand still.
  She leads me back to the 2's classroom (prison), and points at a fish tank on the desk.
  "Look!" she exclaims, excitedly. 
  Inside was a bright, blue beta. 
  "We have a pet!"
  Brilliant. A fish tank in the same room as a pack of two year olds. 
  What could possibly go wrong?

 So, after an extremely boring nap time, I herded all my two year olds into the classroom (which is a lot flipping harder than I care to go into.) 
 I explained that we do not touch fishy, and William informed me that the fish's name was Germie. 
  I'm pretty sure he meant Jeromy, but we're going with Germie.

 The whole class did splendidly the entire day, except once when I caught Jason trying to hold Germie's tank.
 We made paper lanterns, even though only three of them survived the two year olds long enough to make it to the actual lantern stage.  I allowed everyone to cut theirs out themselves, except William, because last time he cut his pants.
  Never. Again.
 Miss Sally came in right as we were cleaning up our toys. It was almost movie time, and I was so ready to get out of the classroom. One of the kids' moms came in, and she and Miss Sally were conversing.
  All of a sudden I hear a *kursplash*
  "Uh oh!"
  "Oh..."
  *Silence.*
  "Poor fishy..."
  I slowly turn around. Not to see what happened, but to see how bad it was.
  There was Jason. His eyes were as wide open as my mouth. At his feet was the fish tank, and a huge puddle of water.
  Miraculously, Germie was fine. He didn't even fall out of the fish tank, although he had very little water left. Jason was rushed to the bathroom where I changed his clothes.
  "Don't touch fishy." he says.
  Seriously, kid. Like...we talked about this earlier.

 I fear for Germie's well-being. 
 I'm glad he made it through day one, but Germie's days are numbered, and this is just Monday.
  It's only a matter of time before I have to explain to Lynn how Jason discovered he likes sushi.


  Honestly, Germie could probably have his own blog. I can just see it...
  The Adventures of Germie. He swims in school, instead of schools.
  The Adventures of Germie, The Preschool Years.
                                 The possibilities are endless.
                             Maybe I should give him a cape.

Sunday, October 20, 2013

What Does The Fox Say?



 Four months.
 I've been at dayscare for four months. You think that's a long time to be wiping noses and butts, and cleaning up vomit that isn't mine 5 days a week...for 30 kids...on minimum wage? Well, guess what?
  I'M JUST KIDDING!
 I've been there for seven months. -.- 
  Psych.

 Does it get easier?
 No.
 No, it does flipping not.
 Just as soon as all your two year olds are out of pull ups, they go to a new class, and you get a whole new crew of screaming, biting, slobbering, poopy snot bags.
  The circle of life.
  I love them...really I do.

 Last week one of the kids was riding the newly repaired bikes on the playground. Just, peddling around and around in circles, having a grand ole' time, when suddenly he flies off the bike and hits the ground. He just starts screaming and crying and there's dirt and wood chips stuck all over him, and the first words out of my mouth are,
  "Thanks, Obama."
 Seriously, though...this is all Obama's fault. You think the government shut down doesn't effect dayscare?
  Guess again.
An uncle of two children at dayscare is employed in the U.S. army and since he had no work, what with the government shut down and such, he came over and fixed the bikes for us and may have asked me out.
 'Murica.

 When they were all fixed, the children, kind, generous, sharing creatures that they are, were naturally fighting over them, and I made them all get in a line.
 When they did, I let the kids in the back, who didn't care that much, get on the bikes first. 
  It was the politically correct thing to do.
 (:

 Anyway, I've pretty much had it with kids doing the complete opposite of what I say, so I've become quite creative with punishments. 
 Sometimes the punishments kind of happen accidentally. Like the time the kid wouldn't go to the bathroom, and I forgot he was still standing in the stall, and I opened the door and it pushed him into the toilet. Not his entire self, just his arms.
 And I awkwardly shut the door.
 Or the time the kid kept jumping on the monkey bars, and fell and split her tongue in two.
 I wore a white shirt that day, and I'm miraculously the only teacher who didn't have to throw any of her clothes away.
Or the time the kid pulled the fire alarm, and the sprinklers came on and the police showed up.
  Scared the kid to death.
 But other times, I have to help Karma a bit.
Kid wants to stand on the table? Okay, we're going to stand right here on the table.
 Kid wants to run down the hallways. Okay, let's stay in the hallway. 
 Wanna climb in that highchair? Lemme help you, kid.
 Reverse psychology is such a beautiful thing. 
 The kids I've used it on have never tried any funny business ever again.

 And the latchkey?
 Well, the last bad incident I had with them was when Christian yelled at me to shut up.
  Game over.
 I don't play that way.
Military Carrie demanded he write "I will respect Miss Cherith and my other teachers" 50 times. 
 So glad I have a long, difficult name. 
Now he has founded a new respect for me. I'm not sure if it was the sentences or the fact that he discovered I'm highly educated in internet memes and video games and stupid viral videos on Youtube.
 Seriously, Christian asked me what a fox says and I burst into "Gring a ding ding ding ding a ding a ding" and they were left awestruck.
 Yeah, 10 year old, I'm the cool one here. Besides...



...It's much cuter when a 2 year old asks.


(By the way, if you haven't seen the video by Ylvis "What Does The Fox Say" here's a link...to a much better song. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MtN1YnoL46Q Stay clean, homies.)




Friday, August 16, 2013

Lesson #983


 
  Sooooo...
  My poll...Who drank out of Military Carrie's drink?
    Me.
  Hey, in my defense, I had no idea it was her drink. She came up to me one day, all nice and sweet, and says, "Cherith, I brought you a Dr. Pepper."
  "Awe, thanks, Carrie! I was starting to get really thirsty." I took a big drink.
  "No problem. It's a little watered down...that's why I got a different one, but I kept that one just in case you wanted it."
  ...
 "So...you gave me a bad one?"
 "No, it tasted okay, it was just a bit too watered down for me."
 "So...this is yours?"
 "Yeeeeeesss..." she says it like, what's the big deal?
 I must have looked very distressed, because she defensively says, "Well, you drink after the two year-olds all the time!"
 "I do not! When they drink out of it I throw it away!"
 "I've seen Jason drink out of your soda and you didn't see it, and took a big drink after him."
 ...
 "So, you've seen Jason drink out of my drink and you didn't tell me?"
 She shrugs, "I didn't think you cared."
 I look over at Jason, who's got dirt caked on his face, and fluids running into his mouth.

 I close my eyes. "Carrie...I hate you so much."
 She just laughs.
 Lesson #983...Never accept anything from Carrie ever again.

 Today was clean-up day at dayscare. There isn't much that is more disappointing than having to stay at work late on a Friday. The only thing worse is not getting paid for it. 
  Andddd...I didn't.
Carrie got out of it. Her dad was visiting, and that's quite a big deal. He lives in Venezuela. Why? 
 I have no idea.
Spartine wasn't there, either. 

 Honestly, it hasn't been a bad week. 
 I did fill out 11 accident reports this week, and had a kid stick his head in the toilet twice. One of the teachers did resort to throwing herself in the floor screaming in front of the two year-olds, and I did accidentally feed a kid something he was allergic to, and get the wrong kid off one of the buses...but still...not bad.
  Not bad.



 Next week I'm returning the favor and bringing Carrie a drink. Not sure what I'm gonna do to it yet, but it's going to be very spiteful.


Monday, August 12, 2013

Failed and Bailed



 I have to get revenge on the latchkey.
 I refuse to let them have the last laugh.

 My favorite co-worker, Jessie, has a different boyfriend every week. Seriously, every Monday she tells me about the new guy and why the old one is history.
 It's become part of the routine.
 So, you can imagine the confusion and shock I experienced last week when Becca said, as she was leaving, "Don't forget to give Will his medicine, and Levi gets his if he wakes up coughing. Oh, and Jessie's getting married and moving away."

Go ahead, Jessie. Run...
 Run.
Get out while you can.

 Meanwhile, I'm stepping up to the plate.
 I get to work on Friday, and Sally says, "Cherith, you're upstairs."
  Oh, right.
 Military Carrie is gone, so I'm on the front line this week. 
  Latch-key, here I come.

 So, I get upstairs with my Dr. Pepper, and I see Miss Soi sitting at the table. The latch-key are running wild, and there are at least a dozen of them. 
 "Cherith's here!" Miss Soi exclaims. She quickly grabs her things, and leaves without so much as a "good luck".
  That's reassuring.
 Christian walks over with a stupid grin on his face.
 "Hi, I'm Christian...but you can call me..."
  Oh, here it comes. 
  "...any time." 
  Then he grabs my Dr. Pepper and takes a huge sip out of it.
    I was absolutely appalled.
 However, I was also unwilling to throw out my Dr. Pepper, so I grab a pair of scissors and cut off the tip of the straw.
 "Don't touch it." I waved the scissors at him, and then stashed them behind a bookshelf while scanning the room for other deadly objects.
  The last thing we need here is a mutiny.
I blink and Christian takes another drink out of my soda.
  Seriously?
I stare at him like -.- and clip the top off my straw again.
 I was really trying to keep my temper under control.
 Recently Miss Sally told us that if we yelled at any kid we would immediately be dismissed.
 What am I gunna do? Kill them with kindness?
  Ughh

 Anyway, so all the latchkey are still running all around the room, and I'm trying to get them all to sit down and watch Finding Nemo. The girls are begging me to take my hair down so they can brush it, and all I could think of was a brush getting stuck in my hair.
  So, no.
They were all wreaking havoc, and continued running around the room. 
  I should start carrying a sack of banana peels around with me for times like these.
  Seriously, how awesome and helpful would that be? When they won't sit down just throw a banana under their feet and be done with it.
 So, I got most of them to sit down by threatening them. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief and accomplishment, when I looked over to my left.
  Not only was Christian drinking out of my Dr. Pepper again, but he was also wearing my sunglasses.
   How in the world?
 "Christian!!" I grabbed the cup, and cut the straw again. By this time the straw was so short that it wasn't even clearing the lid. 
  Forget this.
"Get over there and sit down, now!" 
  Yes, I yelled.
  Don't tell Miss Sally.

 After a few minutes, everyone had at lastly settled down, and I figured it was a good time to use the restroom.
  So, I get up and leave the now peaceful room.
  As I'm washing my hands, an awful thought crosses my mind.
  How bad would it be if they started acting crazy as soon as I came in here, and Miss Sally came up at that time to check on us?
  That would be awful.
  Terrible.
  Horrid.
And that's exactly what happened.
 So, as I emerge from my temporary refuge, and see Miss Sally standing there, I cringe.
 "Cherith..." she says in that terrifying voice. "You don't have to do this. Send Connie up here."
  Okay...mixed emotions. 
 Overjoyed...no more latchkey.
 Disappointed...I can't believe she's sending me away.
 Mind...blown. She's replacing me with Connie.
    Latchkey, I am soooo getting you back.
 I turned to go downstairs, but one of the girls stops me, and gives me a handful of bobby pins.
  "Who's are..." I feel the back of my head.
  My hair is down.
  Seriously? How did they...How...?

 I walk downstairs in a trance. 
 What just happened?
 I round the corner, where Connie and Spartine (our new Asian co-worker) are sitting, whispering.
 "Hey, guys..." I said.
 They stare at me, mouths opened in mid-sentence. 
 "I knew it." said Spartine after a moment. "I knew her hair wouldn't stay up."
 "Uhm...Sally told me to send Connie up there."
  Connie's face was priceless. Fear completely took over, and she froze.
 "Don't worry," I said. "Just don't be nice, and they'll listen to you. You just have intimidate them first thing, and you'll be good."
  She kind of trembles a bit.
Spartine frowns. "Connie...you can do it." she says in her thick accent. "Just don't smile." 
  I smiled.
 "Do this." she says, and frowns so intensely that I thought her nose was going to fall off.

 So, after patting her on the back a lot, and giving her as many encouraging words as we could, Connie walked upstairs, shaking in her Nikes with Spartine yelling, "Don't smile!" after her.

  And we never saw her or my sunglasses again.

Just kidding...she worked with me today, and my sunglasses were safely restored to me...somehow.
  Miraculously.
 My Dr. Pepper, however, was discarded for good.

Latchkey better watch their backs, because the game is about to be over for them. 
 Daycare's about to get real.


 I have a new poll, by the way, so go vote. (:
 And don't wait til I post the answer and then go vote for the right one like some of you did last time.
   You wierdos.
 Also...look what we made in class. 
 Spartine even made one for me. I guess she thinks I'm messy. She made one for her husband, too.



Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Staff Beatings


  At last.
 The stress of summer is coming to a close. However, the employees are still annoyed at each other, and what's the worst thing that could happen when a bunch of staff members are irritated?
 A staff meeting.
 No one....no one likes these meetings.
We had one last night, and even the pizza didn't make up for it.
Lynn and I walked in, and went straight for the end of the table opposite of the side Miss Sally always sits at. We did this to "avoid the line of fire". 
 Miss Sally is a really nice person, but for some reason we're all scared to death of her.

 First item of business, eating our pizza. 12 of us in a room and it was still deathly quiet. 
When we were all stuffed, Miss Sally read a paragraph of encouraging words. She read it very much in the same way that she would read Dr. Suess to the two year-olds. 

  The best part of the meeting was William.
 The opinionated three year-old's mother was late coming in, so he was present for the meeting. Military Carrie was doting on him, as usual. That's when Miss Soi pulled out some lotion.
 "William, you want some lotion?" she asks.
 Lynn and I looked at each other.
 We both knew what was coming.
 "Oh, please don't." said Carrie. "I'm allergic to it."
 I didn't even know Carrie was allergic to lotion, but somehow I knew she was going to say that. 
 "Oh...I'm sorry." said Miss Soi.
 "Hang on, Will. I'll go get you some hand sanitizer." says Carrie.
 As soon as she was out of sight, Miss Soi rubbed the lotion all over William.
 She got a bit carried away, however, cause she was still doing it when Carrie got back.
 "SOI!!!" Carried exclaimed. 
 Miss Soi shrugged. "I sorry, Care Bear."
 Carried stared at William like he was a bomb. "Don't touch me."

 "Okay, Carrie, you'll be off on the 16th, right?" asked Sally.
 "Yeah...you'll need to get someone to watch the latch-key."
 I covered my face in hope she wouldn't see me.
 "Cherith..."
   Ughh...never works for the toddlers, either.
 "I'll have Cherith take them to the pool that day."

 No.
 NO! 
 NOT THE POOL! PLEASE! ANYTHING BUT THE POOL! 
  
 Last time I took the latchkey to the pool, one of them fell and scraped his poor, little knee.
 I've never heard such a racket. He squealed so loudly that if someone had been drowning they would have been a goner, cause all the lifeguards were staring at us.
 "Sean," I muttered through clenched teeth. "It's not that bad. Suck it up, and I'll clean it for you."
 "No!!!!" he screeched. "Don't touch it!!!!"

 "Sean," clenched teeth, still. "Please..."
 "Your brother?" asked a lady next to us.
 "Uh...no. No, I work at a preschool, and..." 
 She raised her eyebrows. "Sean...my name is Susan. Let her clean your scrape, and it will feel better."
 "How do you know?" Sean sobbed (there weren't even any tears).
 "I had 6 kids, Sean."

 I finally got him to stand up and take a couple steps. We came to a hose stretched across our path. 
 He stopped.
 "Step over the hose, Sean."
 "I can't do it."

 "Are you serious?"
 He shook his head violently.

 So...he's not serious? 

 I looked around. The lifeguards were still staring. I really couldn't take this anymore.
"Okay...fine." I swept the little wimp off his feet.
 Literally.
I carried him across the way and cleaned up his wound. 
 "Miss Cherith," Sean sniffed. "Will you-?"
 "No! I'm not going to kiss your knee."
Thankfully Susan had a bandaid in her purse, so I didn't have to ask the lifeguards for one. 
 -.-
  
 So, that's my frightening episode of taking the latchkey to the pool. The only good part was when the big, tough lifeguards were yelling at Trevor to get out of the pool and he was completely ignoring them. However, when I yelled once, he hopped out faster than they could flex.
 Boom.
 They know who to fear.
 Das right.

 Anyway, after the meeting, Sally announced that she brought dessert. 
 Unfortunately, we all felt a bit ill, and politely refused.
 The 16th is going to be interesting. 

 I should get combat pay.



Monday, June 24, 2013

Poison Ivy Encounter


I finally know how I got this blasted poison ivy!
Guess what? Dayscare is to blame.
  Surprise.
I show up at work the other day, right?
"Jason has poison ivy." says Miss Becca.
  I immediately started itching.
Ten minutes later, I notice a small rash on my arm.
 You've got to be kidding me.

Yes, I have poison ivy now. How did I get it? I haven't been outside at all, except for on the playground...and there isn't poison ivy on the playground.
It didn't dawn on me until today just where I got this poison ivy from. 
 Last week one of the kids threw a ball over the fence and into a neighboring yard. There are two fences a foot apart from each other separating the playground in said yard. Carrie always jumps over and retrieves the ball when this happens, but today Carrie wasn't there.
  I look at the fences for a bit. 
Carrie is always saying that I can't do stuff in my skirt. She treats it like a handicap all the time. Wouldn't it show her if I jumped this double fence in my skirt? 
  Awe, yeah. I'm doing it.

So, I jumped over the fences (in one jump, I might add), got the ball, jumped back over the fences, and rushed inside to tell Carrie about my grand achievement.
 She was quite impressed. It showed all over her face, and now she hesitates every time she starts to say something about my skirt. As a matter of fact, now I just try to come up with stuff to say I'm going to do...just to see her hesitate. 
 Now she's unsure of what all I'm capable of.

Anyway, I was so proud of my feat, until today I realized that there was poison ivy all over the fence.
-.-
Still worth it. 
*Scratch, scratch*

Today we had 27 kids, and only two people working.
 I'm sure some really funny stuff happened today, but it's in my mind, and I've lost my mind.
 So, I'm wrapping this thing up.






 Miss Sally: "Here are some hair nets, Cherith. Can you think of anything to do with hair nets?"
 Me: "Not off the top of my head." 
 :D
 "..."
 :)
 "..."
 :|
 "..."
 >.>