Isle of Misfit Toys

As I entered the fourth grade classroom, I noticed a series of bags of yellow fluid, labeled with names, attached to the windows of the room.
"Why is your pee hanging from the windows?" I asked the class.
"IT'S NOT PEE!" they screamed.
"IT'S A SCIENCE EXPERIMENT!  IT IS FOOD COLORING!"
"Um, Mr. Robin, color choice?"
"I know, my bad, you all close your mouths and get ready for Spanish" he announced and exited.

"It is a chicken, stuffed with a duck, shoved inside a turkey".
What the fuck.  This duckfurky what the fuck ever thing was about to make me vomit.  How many ass like orifices could be filled with meat?
"And it's sewed together...."
Okay, I really am throwing up right now.
"We are going to have it my aunt's house because Grandma won't be there...."
Bailey looked at me sideways.
"What happened to Grandma?" he whispered.
"She is probably about to be stuffed with meat" I answered, while we both stared straight ahead.

Jonas was practically laying on top of me while I sat in the chair, reading my email, while on duty.

My duty consists of watching kids go up the stairs in the morning and then go down them again in the afternoon.  It takes about forty minutes a day to perform this act.  I actually don't mind it, I kind of wake up or wind down and I get to hear the beginning and ending of hundreds of kids' day.  Weird kids that don't even know me share odd details.  It's cool. 

Jonas, the large headed boy with proximity issues prattled on.  Kids were staring at us.  I was pinned to the corner, his face pressed to my cheek, while we discussed our upcoming vacation.
"You know, Jonas, I am exhausted!  What about you, big plans for the break?"
"Well, nothing special.  Eating, relaxing.  Why, I should have attended that cabinet meeting!"
"Oh, Jonas.  Nothing escapes you.  That email is refering to teacher representatives that meet with our principal to discuss big events happening at school.  You know, like the President's cabinet".
"Okay.  But I am still quite concerned that the lunch option is Manager's choice today" he responded.
"Actually, it is funny that you mentioned that.  What is Manager's choice?  It could be amazing, it could be disgusting.  We have no idea....."
"And, no salad bar option.  If we pick it, we eat it.  No fall back"
"Same for us.  Teachers have to pick by eight in the morning...sight unseen....and right now it is like, 7:20 AM.....I am thinking hummus plate".
"THAT is very smart" he announced, removing his face from my face and staggering up the stairs, all while engaging an unsuspecting random child in new conversation.

I have thought about abandoning Spanish instruction to work with the weirdo kids that I adore.  The  Olivers and the Jonas' and the Emilys.  Most of these kids require a straight face and heavy behavior modification in order to show them social norms, like not shoving your face onto another person's face while talking, like looking a person in the eye, not discussing that you don't like pants out loud, randomly. 

I can't do it.  It would be wrong for them, because I think all of their idiosyncrasies are too amazing and fun to be suppressed.  And they have to be.

I just can't be the one to do it.