We have a bathroom in our classroom.

So you can only imagine some of the adventures, both good and bad, that occur in there.  But I won't tell you all of them in one post.

I will, however, tell you the most recent bathroom adventure in our second-grade room.  Ahem.

Little guy I'll call Loudie (he's just kinda loud all the time...and it's hysterical) went into the bathroom and was in there for a long time.  Like a really long time.  He finally came out, went over to the sink, and washed his hands.  Meanwhile, a little girl I'll call Cutie entered the bathroom after a long wait.  Like a really long wait.  All of a sudden, she came out yelling, "Ew! It stinks in there!"

You should know by now that second graders can't just leave well enough alone.

I mean, hello, the first week of school Loudie farted twice during the same Community Circle session.  (May I just add that he wasn't embarrassed AT ALL and said "excuse me" like he just sneezed or something normal.)

Anyway...if you and I are warned that something stinks, we'd get far away from said stink, right?  Not true of second graders.  Cutie kept yelling, "Oh, Loudie, that's nasty!  You stink!"  to which Loudie replied, "Hey, whatever! I had to make a poo." Then Cutie's friend came over, apparently to smell the stink for herself and said, "Oh, man, Loudie, you're sick! Whoa!"  More people started joining all the stink-smelling until yours truly broke up the celebration and rained on their stinky parade.

If you like this bathroom story, you will find many other related bodily stories on this lovely blog.  If you don't, well...you might have to find another blog to entertain you.

Driving Age.

Picture this: we are taking a spelling test. I say, "Your next word is car.  When you're 16 you get to drive a car."

Then I hear this from one little guy:
"Well, guys, I hope you know you better grow up faster because they're changing the driving age to 18."

Holy moly, how old is this kid?

I'm bleeding.

Fresh second-graders are great about letting you know they're bleeding.  Here is my conversation that led me to think I would make a great nurse.

W: Mrs. Overman, I'm bleeding.

Me: Oh no! Where?

W: Here, on my ankle. See? 

Me: Mmm hmm...it is kind of bleeding! Do you want a band aid?

W: Nah.  I can live with it.

Me: Well, I'm glad you're so tough.

See? I could be a nurse.

Writing Ideas.

Today were were listing possible writing ideas and Mrs. Ayres (my wonderfully dear friend and colleague...what a great combo, btw) was having the kids list ideas that were good for writing at school and ones that were better saved for home.  She said, "So what are some ideas that are better to write about at home?"

Here are some of the answers:

• gory things
• violence
• bad stuff...like shooting people in the head or kissing

Yeah...kissing is just the worst.

Recess.

One of my kids came running up to me this morning and said,

"Mrs. Overman!  Did some girls come over here and tell you I was cussing?  Because I wasn't.  You know, just in case."

I wasn't suspicious until now...