We are turning into second graders in my room. That means a lot of things, but lately it's meant that lots of things are much more dramatic because we make them that way.
So...the other day, I see about four of my kiddos crouched in a corner, murmuring something and motioning others to come over too.
"Mrs. Overman, there's a dead frog over here!"
Recalling some earlier drama, I say, "I'm sure it's not a dead frog. That is just so silly; no frogs would come in here. Now enough. Get back to work right now, please."
Later in the day, more kids, more drama...more dead-frog-in-the-corner conversations...more "Enough, please!" from me.
I finally cave and go see said frog.
I don't have the eyes of a seven year old, so all I see is a chunk of something and I report to them:
"That is not a frog. It's nothing. Keep reading."
Now, I secretly know it is something...and I'm not touching it. Therefore I make the executive decision: we're done with working on the floor today.
After school, I mention to our custodian that there's something under the cabinets and I don't want to touch it, will you please take care of it? The kids are sure it's a frog, but please just get rid of it.
He does, and says,
"Don't tell your kids...it is a dead frog."