Yesterday we were lucky enough to take the children out for recess.
It’s been raining or snowing here for about a thousand days, and that does not bode well for the teachers of a zillion five-year olds; epecially if you’re the teacher who was lucky enough to win the lottery. (That’s secret teacher language that means you managed to get most of the unique and challenging behaviors in ONE CLASS. Luck of the draw, people. Luck of the draw.)
So, when we looked out the window and realized that these darlings would be able to run, run, run for 30 minutes, we jumped on it.
As I was walking around the track that surrounds the playground area, Frank ran up to me anxious to tattle tale on his best friend Jack. (You always hurt the ones you love, right?)
“Mrs. Smythe, Jack kicked me in the goin.”
He shouted, “JACK KICKED ME IN THE GOIN!!!”
I looked puzzled, and as I opened my mouth to ask again, he dramatically pointed both fingers to his nether-regions and shouted, “Goin, GOIN, GOIN!”
Oh good Lord, I have seriously lost my touch.