Yesterday, I had to work with a group of 5th grade students for an hour. Usually, I don’t work with older children—I’m a small child school specialist. I like small children; they’re still in love with school and teachers and always ask “How high?” whenever I teach them to jump. But I only do jumping lessons on Fridays. Tuesdays through Thursdays, we discuss major world events and Mondays we focus on deep breathing techniques.
So 10 and 11 year olds are just not my cup of tea. I have nothing against 10 and 11 year olds in general—they can be sweet. But they’re smarter than me. And I just can’t have that. I did earn a master’s degree at some point; I have to keep up appearances. Also, I can only add and subtract to 20. Anything other than that is usually math involving numbers combined with letters or it has names containing –ometry at the end. And these always cause various neurons inside my brain to jump in horror, scream, and die. Even when I was in 5th grade, my neurons were horrified by 5th grade math.
But this was not a hard job at all. Because their regular teacher had left a very large packet of math sheets for them to complete and all I had to do was watch them do the packet. Also, the math sheets were mostly graphing and graphing I can do because there are pictures. Except for that one Area=Length x Width sheet at the end of the packet. That was a nasty surprise. They all came to me for help with that one. The problem on it that stumped us went like this:
S=3.2 cm
Area=___
I just patted those confused children on the head and said, “I’m sorry, sweetie. Ms. S only speaks English. Wait until you can ask a real teacher.” Because it was obvious to me at that point I am nothing short of a fraud in the upper grades.
But before I was exposed for what I am, I had been instructed to take them to the bathrooms. When we got back, the girl at the end of my line said, “Ms. S? Can I talk to you in the hallway?”
I would like to note here that this question was asked in a very calm, very quiet manner.
As soon as I stepped into the hallway, she immediately became hysterical and began shaking, crying, and gurgling something about Blood! Blood! The bathroom! All over! Blood!
I had no idea what to do. I hadn’t even finished my first cup of coffee of the morning. I could only stammer, “Blood? What blood?”
Had a 10 year old knifed one of the 8 year olds in the bathroom? Was there a Stephen King-like haunting in there? Was this child just demented and seeing things? Why would there be blood all over an elementary school’s bathroom at 9:00 in the morning? I am not equipped to handle bodily fluids, especially at 9:00 in the morning. And could I at least finish my first cup of coffee before they began the bloodletting?
Finally, she pointed to one of her inner legs and indicated that she, in fact, was the source of the blood. Of course! Of course. Yes, it would only be fitting and right that one of my new charges would decide that today, of all the mornings in all the world, she should become a woman.
At this point, I was faced with an enormous decision that would, perhaps, alter this young girl’s life forever and ever: should I…(A) laugh hysterically and tell her to rent Stephen King’s classic Carrie after school because it would explain everything? (Because this is the first image that came to my mind when I realized what was happening: did this child’s mother light lots of candles and spend a lot of time reading violent Biblical passages railing against womanhood to her daughter because she was trying to keep her girl a girl?)
Or should I (B) give a mini-sex education lesson right there, in the hallway, as the 2nd graders walked past us to the computer lab, gaping, listening in?
Or should I (C) send her to the school nurse with a note reading HELP!!!! PLEASE. I’M ONLY USED TO DEALING WITH BOOGERS AND BLOODY NOSES, NOT BLOODY HOO HOOS?
In the end, I hugged her, told her everything was fine, what had happened was completely normal and she didn’t need to be scared, and then I chose option C. Because I am not a school nurse and so I do not know how to do menstruation talks. I read books about sheeps driving jeeps and I teach young children that, to make a friend, you need to be a friend and I correct grammatical sentences like, “My dad go a car and take me to a store and I have a toy.”
Later, the school nurse and I laughed and laughed about it all. Because here is what happened in her office five minutes later:
Hysterical Girl: Blood! I have blood! I want my mom!
School Nurse: Now you stop that. Didn’t your mama ever talk to you about growing up and having babies?
Hysterical Girl: Yes but she didn’t say there would be blood!
School Nurse: Okay then. Now let me break this down for you: You have 3 holes in your body down there. Poop comes out one, pee comes out the other, and blood comes out the 3rd. This is a big thing! Be happy! You’re growing up! You tell your mama to take you out for pizza after school to celebrate!
In the end, the nurse had the hysterical girl call home to ask for a change of underwear and please don’t forget to pick up some sanitary napkins on your way over. Which the mom brought and then promptly took her hysterical girl home early so they could eat pizza.
But did anyone offer ME pizza yesterday?! Hell to the no! I didn’t even get to finish my cup of coffee yesterday. Also, kids today are so freaking wimpy. I don’t think I got pizza when I was 12 and had blood coming out everywhere for the first time.
In related news:
The other morning, when I logged online and went to yahoo, I found THIS and I laughed and laughed. I know I shouldn’t be laughing; it’s not really a ha ha funny story, because a woman tried to kill another woman. That’s sad. But it does seem to fit with the 5th grade menstruation incident for some odd reason.
I laughed because I didn’t know astronauts wear diapers when they take off and land space shuttles. Did you know? I didn’t know. Now, the next time I watch a shuttle launch, that’s all I’ll be able to think about. And that makes me laugh.
But now I’m also thinking: NASA might be able to put a spin on this and create some extra revenue for themselves. I can think of several long ass traffic jams I’ve sat in where a pair of diapers would have come in quite handy.
And so there you have it: I have blogged about adult diapers and tampons. I do believe this indicates I am officially at the end of a rope. I’m not sure what rope. I just know have no more slack.
I guess this means that I should demand Husband take me out for pizza tonight…
You know how old I was when I had to run screaming for *my* mom?
15. One month away from 16. No kidding.
I’m weird like that, I guess. I think my mom kept thinking I was pregnant. From 13 on. Because my older sister got *her* period when she was 10. Ten! That’s so young.
But I think you handled it beautifully, if for no other reason than you didn’t immediately panic upon hearing the words “lots of blood in the bathroom!”, or whatever she said.
Every new little woman should have an Amy.
Things that make you go hmmmmmm….
Tampons. Diapers. Astronauts in some weird love triangle. When I first heard this story, my in the gutter brain took me to some interesting takeoffs and space flights paid for by our hard earned tax dollars. Talk about take me to the moon! But, then I heard that she never flew with the guy, and that made me feel better. A little bit.
So, what is it with our moms not preparing us? Or since I didn’t have a mom, the female people in my life not preparing me OR taking me for pizza? I thought I was dying. And, I didn’t tell a soul. I was 12 and traumatized! I promise to prepare my little G. And to explain the 3 holes, and hoohoos. That is one of G’s favorite words, by the way. As with some 2 year olds, we taught her how to shake her booty. Too cute, till one day, when we had company, she proceeded to do alittle dance, that was a tad more provacative than I would have liked, accompanied by a song of her own making “Shake my hoohoo, OH Yeah!”. We were afraid she had abandoned her aspirations of being an astronaut (oh the irony) and decided to “shake her hoo-hoo” for a living because around the same time, she decided she REALLY liked to dance on tables. She hasn’t done that since shes been 3. Thank goodness.
I digress. Anyway, I promise to take her out for pizza, and you get to go with us. I’ll handle the hard part, you just grace us with your company, because we enjoy your company even more than we love your blogs, and thats saying alot. Thanks for making me smile, and thanks for commenting on my stuff too.
Lucy!! You got some ’spalinin’ to do!!
this entry was hilarious, you have not lost your touch, so glad to read you again
I have no girls only boys, never thought about explaining that stuff in advance but I guess if you don’t . . .
but what if you explain it when she’s ten (see comment above) but it doesn’t happen until she’s sixteen? (see other comment above)
That’s some pretty good ’spalinin’ if it can last for six years, for a teenager that’s two lifetimes
Heh heh on the diapers/NASA connection. As I recall NASA put Actifed (or Sudafed?) on the map back in the 60’s. OTC decongestants are now part of the American way. Depends really should team up with NASA for a dual marketing scheme, yeah?
Kay. Funny, nice, late-bloomer Kay! I think every new blogger should have a Kay come leave comments on their blogs.
Also, just an update: I did get pizza, eventually, on Sunday. And it wasn’t even that time of the month!!
Michele: I imagine great things for G. Like, why can’t there be table dancers on shuttles in space? Huh? I think that’d be a COOL job!
Hey…do you remember how, when G was 2 1/2 she liked that song Badonkadonk? And she walked around the house shaking her booty singing, “Shake your badonkadonk?” That G! I’m dang proud of her!
Also: I like my company better than my blogs too! So…yay! Pizza for us all when G is 12-16!!
Gord: coming from someone who regularly breaks the law by freezing his beer, I am touched by your sentiments. Touched! (Also, I’d like you to know that I froze some beer last night…just to say I’d done it)
I’m not sure what I would have done if I’d gotten the “blood talk” at 10, and then had to wait and wait and wait until 16 to find out what the whole thing friggin’ meant in the first place. That would be freaky.
I’m not going to be a parent. Definitely.
Mel: (writing advertisement suggestion to Depends and NASA) I really think this could unite the country in a way that no politician since….since….the history of American politicians has been able to do.
Gooooooo NASA and Depends!!
THAT IS AWFUL! HORRIFYING!
right now i am so glad to be a school psychologist instead of a teacher. i don’t have to deal with that kind of ickiness.
i am also glad that i’m not an astronaut, b/c i think wearing diapers as an adult sounds really uncomfortable.
i sure do like the way you tell stories, though.
Because I am a freakshow, I read all kind of books about “What to expect when I am menstruating.” So when I started it was kind of like, “Oh, hey, good, because I’ve been planning this for awhile.” I was 13 and maybe that makes a difference. I’m sure my mom gave me some sort of talk, but mostly I educated myself because ew, gross, I did not want to talk to either of my parents about that kind of stuff.
Christ — who is starting their period at 10? It’s the hormones in the meat, isn’t it?
You handled that pretty well. I wouldn’t have known what to do. Me and kids don’t mix, know what I’m saying? I think it’s because I’m too much of a pessimist.
And by the way, the astronaut in the diapers trumps the Anna Nicole story if you want my opinion. I want to know more about what her status is and less about all the babydaddies.
PS - I hope that child’s mother also got her some M & M’s and something heavily caffeinated, as I find that helps me when I bleeding from my hoo-hoo.
No, wait, don’t give caffeine to a kid.
I was 14 or 15 - is it sad I can’t remember how old I was? I do remember standing in my mom’s bathroom when I realized what had happened and thinking - oh - so those were cramps I’ve been having. YAY.
Good job with the handling of the delicate issue - way to stay calm under pressure
Patresa: Never say never–I think the school psychologist is *exactly* what that girl needed that day. In fact, if you were our school pyschologist, I’d have sent her to you with a sticky note that said: HI, PATRESA! GUESS WHAT *YOU* GET TO HANDLE TODAY?! Because I like to share the wealth with my friends like that.
I think astronauts have to wear those diapers because take off and landing space shuttles is scary. Now I’m wondering if airplane pilots wear them too? I think NASA should market them to airplane passengers as well…I’ve been on some plane rides those would have come in handy.
Stephanie: It’s either the meat or the water. I can’t decide which. But something’s off, that’s for sure.
Did you know if you give caffeine to an ADD kid, it has the opposite effect? I can think of some kids I’d GLADLY supply with cans of Coke and bags of M&Ms on a daily basis. I would do this covertly, though. If they know you WANT them to have it, they won’t go for it.
Dionna: Hi! And thanks. But man! Between you, Kay, and Stephanie, I’m feeling like a genetically mutated freak for becoming a woman at 12. At least it had happened at home…small blessings.:-)
You are a saint, a saint.
Phoenix: You have only begun to scratch the surface, my friend! Because I mean, well. You HAVE met my brother :-P. So you know.
Brent:
1. Peter Brady is hot! Gary Coleman…not so much.
2. I DIG competitions where I’m the only entrant, thus the winner by default! Woo!
3. I couldn’t see your pictures because I was looking at them from my work computer. We, too, have the Internets Police. George Bush is their leader (hence the name “Internets”). I will try again next time I visit!
4. Man lingerie actually involves black leather and chains, I believe.
5. Thanks for the face compliment! I do have some bikini shots I call my “Please Boost My Low Self-Esteem” or “I Need Attention” photos. My husband has asked me not to reveal these anymore because it makes him insecure…although, once upon a time in my Needy Phase, I once posted these enough that they are probably still around somewhere, floating around on some filthy internet site that I did not grant publishing rights to.
6. No, I do not know which filthy internet site. But if I run across them, I’ll direct you to it.
7. I know a girl who can pee standing up. It’s awesome! Messy, but awesome!
Oh, I LOVE this!! Can you post the first part to Indie Bloggers? Oh my God, what a headache you must’ve had!!