Let me set the scene for you. It’s early morning. I am armed with coffee, vibes, and the delusional hope that today might be normal. Reader, that hope did not survive the first hour.

Being a paraprofessional in a second-grade classroom is like living inside a group chat that never stops talking, never stays on topic, and occasionally says something so unhinged you have to stare at the wall to process it. I love these kids with my whole heart and would protect them with my life. But also??? What the hell???

The Danny Go Incident

We start the day strong. I’m feeling whimsical. Fun. A little silly goofy. I ask my class, very earnestly, “If I made music videos like Danny Go, would you guys watch them?”

One bright-eyed little cherub, without hesitation, looks me dead in my face and says,

“No, I’d jump out the window.”

No pause. No smile. Just facts.

So that’s how my short-lived music career died. RIP. Gone but not forgotten.

Math, But Make It Existential

Later, during a math test, one of my students is supposed to be using connecting cubes to count. A normal activity. A reasonable expectation.

Instead, he lifts the cubes to his face, stares into the void, and announces:

“I’m a Lego.”

I sat there like…okay. I don’t know what to do with that. I guess I’ll just let you finish your spiritual journey and circle back.

Library Time: A Brief History of Trauma

In library, we’re talking about Martin Luther King Jr.

They’re asked, “What do you remember about Martin Luther King Jr.?”

And the class, in unison, offers up:

“He got shot.”

That’s it. That’s the whole legacy. Cool. Awesome. Love that for us. Truly no notes.

Lockdown, But Make It Feral

Then comes a lockdown drill. You know. Just American things.

The room’s silent. We’re hidden.

And then one of my children decides this is the PERFECT time to MEOW. Loudly. Repeatedly. With confidence.

Sir, this is not the time to audition for Cats Jr. What. The. Hell….???

Don’t Tell Children About Your Home Life

After library, I was casually telling the teacher that my oven at home needed a new part and likely could have exploded.

A student (the Lego child) overhears, walks up, pats my shoulders, and says, “Good for you.”

I’m sorry, but how is an exploding gas oven good for me exactly? At this point, I’m questioning my life choices. It’s only 11 a.m.

Recess: The Missing Shoe

At recess, a kid from another class absolutely punts a soccer ball over the fence like a FIFA champion.

The kid comes over to report the tragedy. (It’s like the 5th soccer ball this week, one of which my own nephew yeeted just yesterday. Yes, I work the same lunch duty as my nephew, and yes, he gives me food and I promise not to embarrass him in front of his classmates. It works).

He says, “The ball went over the fence.”

I look down. One foot. One show.

“Oh,” he adds, casually. “Yeah. That went over the fence too.”

Why was that NOT the headline? Why didn’t we lead with that???

Absolutely Academic Debates

By the end of the day, I had mediated several high-stakes discussions, including:

• Could Sailor Moon beat Goku in a fight? (Okay, I might have started this one and the only correct answer is obviously yes.)
• Do titles need punctuation at the end?
• Why cranberry juice is better than apple juice

Final Thoughts From the Trenches

Being a paraprofessional in 2nd grade means you are:

• an educator
• a therapist
• a referee
• a crisis negotiator
• a witness to absolute nonsense

Every day, I go home exhausted, emotionally whiplashed, and weirdly proud. Because somewhere between meowing during lockdown drills and flying shoes, there’s learning happening. And I’m learning too. Mostly that chaos is constant, and I’m apparently built for it.