Today, we were on an excursion and the toilets were unsavoury to say the least (I wouldn’t let my dog sniff them…). I had pre-warned the children to try to go to the toilet twice before we left, as well as not to guzzle the water in their water bottle. At the end of our exploring, one child came to me and said, ‘Miss Rainbow, I know the toilets are bad, but that seriously doesn’t even matter to me right now. That’s how much I’m busting.’ I told her I explained that I understood her ‘busting’ feeling (I actually did) but I really would prefer for her to hold it until we got back to school (on a nice, bouncy bus).
One child had a better suggestion,
“She could just do a bush wee!”
In Australia, that’s the equivalent of taking a squat (for a lady) in a forrest or any sort of nature-like setting.
Yesterday afternoon, the clouds darkened as playtime drew to a close (while in the staff room, all the teachers prayed for no rain until the bell went!). The children commented about the huge storm that was coming. I checked online and could report that no warnings for a storm existed and perhaps some showers, but no storm.
Five minutes later, the loudest, most sudden and angry clap of thunder shook our quiet, hard-working classroom. At the time, I was writing on the whiteboard. The pen kept going on the board as I jumped with fright. Out of nowhere, a child exclaimed,
“Lordy be, that frightened me! I nearly wet my pants!”
I asked, “Who says that in your family?”
“Nanna, she says it all of the time!”
Poor Nanna. Poor little kid!
Today we talked about how much we loved our siblings, cousins and family. One child said, ‘It is really hard to love my sister. Somedays I don’t love her at all.’ Aware the discussion had moved to shaky ground, I said, ‘Surely you’ve loved her a little bit on some days…’. The child paused for a moment and said,
“Yeah, somedays I love her as much as I love a bird.”
That’s real, true, deep love.