Tuesday morning

This week I am finishing the last of my kindergarten screenings at one of my schools, a task I had been dreading ever since last year when I discovered how patient one needs to be with kids so young. Things changed this year, beginning with my timing of screenings. I learned that no one in their right mind tries to screen kinders before winter break, because they don't know how to stand in line or follow directions, and often times, their own name. Second, the kinder teachers - with the exception of an aformentioned Mrs. Meanie, are just fantastic at my schools. I've been doing the majority of my screening in the classroom itself, and after spending many mornings with the various classes, I can honestly say I have no idea how those teachers do it. They are endlessly patient and positive in the face of snot, vomit, tears, and wet pants. They get the privilege of spending their days with some of the cutest kids at school, but despite the fact that this year's screening was a world away from my traumatizing experience last year, there is no way I could do their job.

I often get some strange reactions and responses from students, particularly the kinders, during screening. My vision chart gives them the choice of an apple, house, or umbrella, and they have to tell me the shape as they get smaller. I've come to expect the apple to morph into a heart, the house into an igloo, and the umbrella into a "j" as the shapes get smaller. But I got a new one this year when a student started laughing at me. Nothing like a tiny five year old laughing at you and saying, "Your game is silly!" to make you feel...well, silly, holding a chart and asking a kid to identify the same three shapes over and over.

Changing the subject, this morning a student walked in and before she could answer what was wrong, she projectile-vomited all over my office floor. It confirmed what I was saying to a teacher last week: give me puking kids over lice picnicking in someone's hair.