Urinals are not play structures

Eerily reminiscent to an incident a few weeks ago, I had just sent Rietta a sarcastic email in response to something she'd said when she called my cell phone. Not wanting to believe what it might be, I didn't answer it; seconds later I was buzzed on the loudspeaker to answer line three. For them to intercom me during classtime, I knew it was urgent. Rietta was on the phone and told me a boy had fallen off a play structure, was complaining of neck pain, and 9-1-1 had already been called. Still, I could hear in her voice - and just knew, at this point - that she wanted me there. I told her I was on my way, and sprinted out of the school. The school I was at is across the street from the fire station, and I hadn't heard them leave yet. I caught green lights, and arrived at the other school just as the fire truck's sirens had grown loud enough that I was going to need to pull over. I walked them into the school, told them what I knew, and led them into the office. Yes, that's right: the office. Neck pain, and he had been moved to the office - I wanted to scream at someone, but didn't know who. 

Once we all crowded into the nurse's office, I found out what really happened: the boy had been toying around in the bathroom and tried climbing the partition between urinals in the bathroom. It was at least a five foot fall to the hard (and sticky and gross) bathroom floor, he had a few cuts, but mostly couldn't move his head. After some sleuthing I found it was him who had moved himself to the office for help; I was thankful there wasn't an adult to yell at for that.

There were a few noticeable things about this commotion: first, when the secretary finally reached the mother to let her know that her son was being taken to the hospital, her response was, "I'm going to get dressed and I'll be on my way." Now, perhaps there was a perfectly logical explanation for her having to get dressed at 1:45 in the afternoon; regardless, I'm quite sure if it's my child I'd have run to the school naked if I had to. In fact, I did run to the school, beating the firemen, and realized as I drove off I left my office completely vulnerable - laptop on, email open. I ran to the school knowing that I probably wouldn't do anything useful, but just in case, I had to be there: these kids are all my babies. No matter how much they can irritate me, or how likely I think it is that they won't graduate or end up in jail, or how much I hate their parents, they're my kids. When the mother finally arrived, after the babysitter, after the child was strapped on the gurney and ready to go, she spent so much time dilly dallying talking to other parents that the paramedics actually had to wait in the ambulance for her to get in. Again, I don't have kids so I can't say for sure, but I have a feeling if it were my child, I wouldn't be holding up the ambulance. (I also like to think I wouldn't have a child playing in the bathroom during class, but that may be wishful thinking.)

There's also the fact that this is the 3rd time at this school that paramedics have taken away a student; I was told last year there were none. At this point, I was not surprised to hear the jokes, telling me that "fire trucks are not toys just because they might come with cute firemen." On that note, I'll admit to recognizing one of the fireman, which is when I told Rietta: "this is not a good sign if I recognize one of the firemen, we're doing this too often." More weird was when I finally returned to the school I had been at originally and found a fire truck parked in the parking lot. I walked into the gym to find all three of the same firemen that had just been at the other school waiting to present at the after school program I had last week, and said hello again. As usual, when I recount my day to myself or someone else, I can only repeat this about school nursing in the ghetto: I am not making this up.