One month down

So we're only four weeks in to the school year and already the primary teacher's worst nightmare has dropped in to haunt me.

And I'm not talking about my hijacked lunch break because that happens all too often actually. This time it was a visit from a new addition to the class whose parents just decided he was ready to switch from Kindergarten (4 weeks into term? Takes all sorts I suppose) who I eventually dispatched to tour the building so I could go grab some lunch - fish fingers today, not to be missed. Only to be confronted with a sobbing class member who'd been caught fighting and needed calming down and debriefing. By the time I'd got past the indignant declarations of 'He started it!' and 'It wasn't me!' the rest of the class was heading my way and I had to manage on leftover morning snacks again.

Not long afterwards we had just completed a listening exercise on the carpet and several of the little darlings were showing signs of 'inattention' - lying on the floor, turning their backs to chat with the person behind, sighing, yawning, trying to fit all their limbs at once inside their t-shirt, singing... I eventually got the subtle hints. I reckoned a quick round of 'Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes' would pep them up a bit, and sneakily reinforce the body parts curriculum unit (that'll show 'em; if you can't be arsed to listen I'll educate you on the sly while you think you're playing, [evil laugh].)

As we headed to the cd player somebody piped up with 'Someone's made a smell'. Sure enough there was a nasty odour pervading the air but I assumed it was a whiffy fart and carried on with the game. But I did notice a little boy right at the back who wasn't joining in. And by the end of the song the smell was worse than ever.

Oh yes, someone had pooped in their pants. Shit.

At least I found out why he was off school yesterday and I can put the right code in the register. However, a little heads up would have been nice.

But I got his mum back - by calling her away from work to collect her sick child and a particularly pungent bag of clothes. I like to share the joy.