A windy day
You know it is a windy day when you spend the first half of your lunch break watching a small herd of first grade children (I believe herd is the technical term for first graders on a playground) chasing a tumbleweed all over the grassy field like it was the most fun thing on earth. Watching them may well have been one of the more entertaining things I have done, because they had no idea what to do when they caught it, so they kicked it or threw it straight up in the air to re-embark on the chase. That was the highlight of my day… at least until
I get put on bloody nose patrol
Near the end of recess I was grabbed by a teacher and put on bloody nose duty. I think, personally, someone said, “go talk to Mr. H, he is a doctor”, ignoring I am not that kind of doctor. Since there was a >20 mph sustained wind during the lunch hour and it was bitterly cold, we ended up with 14 kids with bloody noses.
That being the case, the second half of my lunch break was spent gently wiping blood off of elementary school students, trying to spot clean green t-shirts (St. Patrick’s day and all) with cold water and then jamming tissues up their nose to stop the bleeding so they could get to class on time.
But at least my yoga is going to get better
Once I had a moment to catch my breath, I got to go teach my small group class of 1st and 2nd graders on the autism spectrum. I get into class and one of them clamped onto my leg and ordered me to sit down on the ground so I could efficiently play with him (and not get up to clean the room while they played). So I decided to sit down criss-cross applesauce and play with him. The moment I made it down and crossed my legs, two other small children jumped on me (literally, with great hangtime), using my knees as chairs and started to make me read the captions of their sticker books to both of them. Well, I could not ignore the boy who got me down on the floor in the first place, so I was also spending my time turned 90° playing with play-dough up on the table and cutting it into interesting shapes as he taught me the “right” way to play, because I was obviously doing it wrong. Another child set up shop behind me with foam blocks and proceeded to make a castle, of which I was apparently an integral part-and thus unable to move.
I can tell you, there is nothing like having children that will not move and do not understand they may are putting your legs to sleep for you to learn very quick how to zen out and roll with whatever they have to dish out. My prediction is that by the end of this school year I am going to either have some mad yoga skills, or else I will be able to get a job as a professional human jungle gym, since that is my primary purpose in the eyes of these kids.