Oops.

It's been almost a month since I've written and it's not for a lack of material, it's a time problem. This district is nuts. And I say that coming from a district that I also thought was nuts.

We (the district) are being swamped with refugees from the Middle East. During a screening, I asked what the name "FNU" is that I was seeing all over the place on rosters..."Family Name Unknown." Families are arriving without any documentation, so kids enroll in school with no last name or birthdate, no English, and scared out of their minds. They come to school and are behind a fence from their parents surrounded by strangers, and they cry and cry as they feel they are being taken away from their family. I read health histories and find stories of kids watching family members being killed in front of them, of escaping their home country on horseback, and arriving here with no one to ease them into their new world. Now when I see Middle East turmoil in the news, I no longer click to the next headline, I read through the article and try to get a little closer to understanding what some of these kids have been through. It's heavy stuff.

The heavy stuff, then, makes it that much more special when something a little more light comes my way. A secretary brought a student to me yesterday with "possible ringworm" that his teacher had sent him up for. He had a red ring on his hand, but it wasn't raised, and just didn't look like ringworm to me. "That's not a hand stamp, is it?" I asked. "Yes, it is, it won't wash off!" Ahh...yes, that's why they pay me the big bucks. To identify hand stamps.