Hey besties!!!

So this happened earlier in the month and I’m still tired.

Working with second graders means everyday already has the potential to go off the rails for reasons that make absolutely no sense. Somebody’s crying because someone looked at them. Somebody else is lying badly. Somebody is singing a song that is entirely inappropriate for their age (and in fact, everyone). Somebody is growling for some reason. And then, sometimes, life throws in an actual emergency just to keep you on your toes.

Let’s unpack.

Early in the morning last Friday, we get a notification over the loudspeaker telling us to please evacuate the next time we hear the alarm.

Already I’m like…okay.

Then the alarm goes off.

The class gets up, goes to the door, and I grab the emergency bag. For one tiny shiny second, I think maybe this is going to go smoothly.

Wrong.

One cherub is still sulking in the corner after I had scolded her earlier for throwing Pokémon cards in my face.

Yes. In my face.

So now we’ve got an alarm going off, kids lined up at the door, me holding the emergency bag, and one tiny dramatic actress in the corner acting like this is the great moment to stand on business.

In my head I’m just like, girl, please do not do this right now.

I try nice first and say very sweetly, “We need to leave the building, sweetie. Let’s go.”

And she goes:

“NO!”

Ma’am.

I very quickly had to switch into teacher voice immediately.

“Little girl, you got 5 seconds to get out this door…”

And finally she gets up and stomps out with an attitude.

An attitude.

Like I am so sorry that during what was clearly not a normal drill, I interrupted your sulk session to save your life.

We finally get outside and all staff find out there’s a possible gas leak…which is instantly enough to make everyone’s muscles clench a little tighter.

After I get briefed, I head back to my students, and what are they doing?

Playing with moss, dirt, and sticks.

At this point, we’d been outside for about twenty minutes, and the kids had fully decided to become outdoor forest goblins. There was absolutely no pretending this was some quick little drill anymore.

I ask my kids what they’re doing.

One girl looks at me, bright as sunshine, smiles and says:

“Building a campfire!”

A boy in my class was trying to rub two sticks together and another girl was smacking two rocks against each other.

Reader, I freaked the f*** out.

Because my class, in the middle of a gas leak, had decided to star in Survivor: Elementary Edition, and possibly unintentionally take out the whole block.

I destroyed their little setup immediately and was like, “Nope absolutely not! No fire right now please.”

Then the buses come because we were being prepared to bus everyone to the high school if needed.

Then the firefighters came.

And with them came the questions.

“Why are the firefighters here?”
“Why are the buses here?”
“Is the school on fire?”
“Can I ride in the fire truck?”
“Are we going on a field trip?”

No babes, this is not some whimsical side quest. This is the adults trying to make sure the building doesn’t betray us.

Eventually the building was deemed safe, so thank God we did not have to go anywhere.

But the kids?

Disappointed.

Actually disappointed.

Because they were sad we didn’t get to go on our field trip to the high school.

And I had to explain, with every last scrap of strength I had left, that the point was to not have to go to the high school.

If we had to get on those buses, that means we’re leaving all our stuff and possibly not getting it back until Monday. That is not a fun little excursion. That is a logistic nightmare.

Do you think that mattered to them?

Nope.

They were like, “Awww.”

AWWWW???

And then, we had to go back inside and do math.

Math.

Impossible.

I tried to rein them in with promises of playtime and Skittles but no such luck.

The kids were gone. Mentally, emotionally, academically, and spiritually gone.

Luckily, I was taking a half day that day so I handed them off to the sub, wished the sub luck, and fled.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my kiddos. I really, really do, but whoo boy, we’re in the trenches, especially the closer we get to summer break.

And what’s worse is that no matter how nudgy they get, no matter how many times I have to say things like “please stop sniffing the highlighters” or “we’re not making a fire right now,” I still can’t imagine doing anything different with my life.