Tend to Our Wise Ones

(the boogers and vomit kind of wisdom)

When our daughter was seven, I overheard her talking to her dad upstairs in her bedroom. They were debating over whether the substance on her rug was juice or vomit. Then I heard, “Well, Mommy would know what it is, because she’s a teacher.”

This vote of confidence was a step up for me. When she was four, the same kid asked me, “What’s a fancy word for boogers?” I hesitated, and then said, “Uhhhhh, mucus?” She contemplated that for a moment, and decided that she’d better just ask her preschool teacher.

It’s true that educators have several knowledge sets that are unique to our environment. For instance, I can predict fairly accurately whether the kid who says he has a belly ache is going to puke (send my garbage can with him to the nurse), or if he’s going to be given a Tums and told to use the bathroom. Other classroom first aid tricks for your enlightenment:

• A cool, damp paper towel can be put on any body part that is bruised or sore: foreheads, necks, knees, fingers.

• LifeSavers Pep O Mint candies sooth hurting tummies, sore throats, and general ennui.

• Sympathy and the offer of a drink (at the water fountain, so there’s a walk included) and a few minutes with one’s head on one’s desk are unexciting enough to make most questionable maladies disappear.

Sometimes, teacher traits are valued and welcomed in the Outside World — especially the ones that may be enhanced by the part of me that was a theater major. I can get the attention of a large, noisy group with little effort, using my Teacher Voice. I can always be counted on to give the on-air board report for the radio station. I will always say yes to making an announcement in church, especially when they give me free rein to treat the congregation like 4th graders. I did this a couple of weeks ago:

Me: (singing) Good mooooorning, CPC!

Them: (mumbling) Good morning…?

Me: (gently chastising) Oh, you can do better than that. My 4th graders did better than that on the first day of school! (stage whispering) Hint — my name is Susie. (singing again) Good mooooorning, CPC!

Them: (sheepishly singing) Good moooooorning, Susie!

Me: (proudly) That’s much better. We like to start our mornings with a joyful noise, and it also works to put the attention on me. One year, I had a group that was a little harder to summon to my will. I have asked the choir to help me demonstrate a different strategy. (to choir) HUZZAH!

Choir: (slapping their hands on their lap) HUZZAH, MY QUEEN!

I don’t know if we received more Stewardship response cards after that morning, but everyone seemed to be entertained and informed.

I think that [a small] part of the reason teachers are burned out and overcommitted is that these skills we have are ones that are applicable to situations where not everyone feels comfortable. We are constantly the centers of attention in a mob of bodies, using silly sayings and dramatic body movements to keep the attention of the children in our rooms. We are among the first suggested during any committee meeting trying to find volunteers to 1) speak in public 2) wrangle large groups 3) write a grant 4) be secretary or communications point person 5) ANYTHING TO DO WITH CHILDREN. This last one is truly a bummer. Do you want to do your job in your downtime?! As we all know, teachers are terrible at saying no; we are natural helpers and bandwagon jumpers and cheerleaders. We say yes and commit and don’t let anyone down (except maybe our immediate families who never see us) and then try to explain why we are randomly falling asleep at dinnertime or crying in the parking lot after grocery shopping.

Oops, that took a turn.

Let me leave you with this important lesson that Billy brought home from Fire Safety Week a decade ago: “When your pants are on fire, stand up, get on your knees, and roll around.”

If that isn’t wisdom, I don’t know what is.

Thanks for reading.

Love, Susie