Disaster preparedness...ummm, riiiight. No drill prepared me for THIS disaster.
Allow me to set the stage, and you can judge for yourself.
Our school holds monthly awards assemblies. This late in the game, the pool of award recipients generally consists of all students who didn't qualify for any other awards all year and who's teachers have now constructed fictitious achievements for which to honor them.
Vice Principal: And the next award goes to Paul G. for "Running Really Fast." Great job, Paul!
We don't have a multi-purpose room or cafeteria, so our assemblies are held outside. My class sits in the cool shade of a majestic tree, but I still could bring them back into the room in a bucket after sweating through most assemblies. While our tree offers much needed refuge from the California sun, it also assaults us with leaves and green squiggly things that get stuck in our hair and often lead to much distraction.
Evidently, it assaults us with other things as well.
About thirty minutes into today's assembly, I saw two of my girls squealing and flailing their arms about. Innocent leaves were floating down upon them. Puh-leez! I shot them an angry look and made the universal sign for "shush or else." Within moments, three more kids erupted into screaming, arm flapping craziness. Students began curling themselves up into little balls, protecting their heads with their arms, and screeching.
Seriously, isn't this a bit much over a few leaves?
I only wish it had been leaves.
Just as I lean over the group to start busting some butts for disrupting the assembly, a bird-like creature flies from one student's arm to another student's hair. I noted that its wings flapped really fast for a bird. No biggie. I'm sure it's just a bird.
Then more students dive from their seats, screaming. That's an odd reaction to a little bird. Birds are so cute.
Ignoring signs to the contrary, I lean down to get a better look at the little guy and possibly try to catch him. He must be so scared! I must save him from these wild brutes. After all, I own a parrot and I love all animals.
The "little guy" LEAPS towards my face and I get wayyy too close a look at it's buggy eyes, spindly legs, furiously flapping wings, and antennas.
This "little guy" resembles a giant, green, winged hot dog which, in retrospect, would have been a lot better for me because once I realize it's a locust the size of my thigh I darn near soil myself. There was nothing but a blur left in my wake as I got the hell outta there, screaming and flailing my arms the whole way. I love animals, but bugs are not animals.
Pestilence! Are you freakin' kidding me!?!?!
From a safe distance of about 50 feet away, I watch as a generally timid fifth grader calmly walks to an open grass field with the flying hot dog on his pant leg and gently brushes it away. "No big deal," he says.
No Big Deal!
Meanwhile, I've determined that if there's one flying hot dog, there must be others. I've seen horror movies. Those suckers travel in packs. I didn't return to the group until the assembly was over.
The bottom line though: A mere child handled this waaayyyy better than me.
But I can live with that.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008