My turn

Last week, I'd apparently had enough of rude parents, and became a rude nurse in response.

In my somewhat lame defense, I had been unknowingly walking around with a sinus infection for weeks and on this day I felt particularly terrible. A teacher sent a student to the office - a 7th grader, but from the emotionally/mentally disturbed class - saying his cough was disruptive. I told him he could call home but he only knew one number, one that no one answered. As I went to look up his contact information on my computer he came and stood looking over my shoulder. There is no pretty way to describe what it felt like at the time: a towering giant (he's huge), dripping snot, hacking over me. I wanted to vomit. I told him to get back, and he took a step back - and then crept forward. I snapped, told him I didn't need his germs showering down on me, and this time he listened. Supremely annoyed, I had him call every contact number - all voicemail boxes were full, and no one answered. For no other reason other than the fact that he was totally grossing me out with his perpetual wet sniffles, I told him to go back to class and let his teacher know that no one would be able to pick him up. Minutes later he was back with a teacher's aid - the teacher did not want him back, he could not be in class with his disruptive bodily sounds. While I can't blame her - he was really making noises when he snorted that just about made me lose my breakfast - I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with him.

That's when the aid piped in that sometimes parents don't answer when they know it's the school calling - and this was likely one of those parents, because the teacher had called the mom first thing in the morning and they refused to pick him up. I used the aid's cell phone to call the mother of the snotty student, and lo and behold - she answered. She tried to beat me to the punch, telling me he just hasn't learned to blow his nose (whether he's your biological kid or your foster kid, if he's got a cold - teach him to blow his nose before sending him to school), and that she wasn't going to be able to pick him up. I cut her off and in front of an audience of the entire office staff and a few students let her have it: the teacher cannot have your son [and she tried to interrupt me at this point, telling me that he is not their son, he's their foster son] in her classroom, I cannot keep him in my office all day. You. Need. To. Find. A. Way.

And she did. When I was done, she spoke quietly: "I was about to tell you, if you'll let me finish my sentence, I will have someone come get him."

Oops. That was when I realized it: I'm turning into a rude b**** just like some of these parents. I feel mostly terrible about it but also slightly smug and satisfied: Ain't no one be walking over me.