We have a tiny, nasty stomach virus that is chasing every person in our kindergarten community here in Smythe, Oregon. In fact it is having so much fun that it has come back for a second round of torture. (My "running with the garbage can" skills are getting a work out - and when you clean up their messes- you'll make the janitor your friend for life.)
On Thursday night it unfortunately caught ME. This took me by COMPLETE surprise, as I have become very adept at avoiding every nasty coughing, sneezing, feverish vomiting virus that has tried to take down this veteran teacher.
In fact, my friends often tease me about the super-immune system that I have- and don’t buy it for a MINUTE if I try to cry out of something by saying, “I’m sick.”
On Friday morning I managed to drag myself to school in order to get the classroom ready for a sub and prepare lessons and materials for the day. (Most teachers will drag their sorry sick behinds to school because it’s much easier to teach when under the weather than to PREPARE for a sub. But you didn’t hear that from me.)
Our incredible secretary managed to find me a sub in record time, and I only had to stay for 20 minutes after school started before I could make my hasty (and not touching anyone) exit.
As I tried to leave my room I was accosted by a former student who had come down the hall looking for a hug. I held him at arms length and tried to explain that I didn’t feel well.
“I’m sorry, Johnny, but I am leaving because I don’t feel well.” And then I whispered, “My stomach hurts a bit.”
He looked at me and shouted, “Aw! It’s probably just GAS!” and ran back to his room.
I laughed out LOUD as I walked out of the building.
Gas? I wish.