3 Gripings And A Confessional

I have issues. They are entirely my own issues. I am not blaming the school for what I am about to say. The school tried to solve a problem in the most efficient manner. I am not blaming the students, either. Kids will be kids. It's their nature. Our students are a pretty good group as students go. Even the substitutes say they're the best in the area. Now that the disclaimers are in effect, let's get to it...

Kids these days! Two of our buildings had no water yesterday. A pump broke in some town that supplies the water to those two buildings. This is not the first time it's happened. Goodness, no! The policy at one building is to set out bottled water for the kids, or set up coolers and cups in the main hallway. Port-A-Potties are rented, and it's business as usual. I'm not sure what happens at the other building, because I'm not in it. My son brings home notes that he can bring a water bottle to keep on his desk. As for their bathroom practices, I'm not sure. Anyhoo...that's not the issue. The issue is KIDS, people!

I'm thinking the school must have been led to believe the problem would be resolved sooner than it was, or that it was not as severe as it turned out to be. Because by afternoon, students from both of the other buildings were being bused to Basementia to use the facilities. That is not the issue. As a parent, I feel they did what is best for my child, under the circumstances. Now, for the griping.

First of all, the kids were told they could bring drinks to school. Unopened drinks, to carry to class. Did these kids bring bottles of water, to fill their hydration needs, to replace the drinking fountain visits between classes? NO! Some were fairly reasonable. They brought water, and those individual packets of Gatorade or some such flavory drink to put in the bottle and shake, shake, shake. Others brought soda. Yeah. Like they need that every hour of the day. Oh, not just a 20 oz. bottle of soda. Some brought freakin' 2-LITER bottles of soda. Keep in mind that at the time they were packing up this bounty to haul to school, the bathrooms were off limits. Yeah. Don't tell me the kids don't know what happens if you drink a 2-Liter bottle of soda in 50 minutes. Those soda-drinkers lucked out today, because the pump was fixed, and the toilets were a-flushin'.

Don't be feeling sorry for these kids. Because there was still bottled water free for the taking all day. Some kids had the free hey it's free I gotta get me some it's free mentality. They would try to take several bottles at a time. Others used the bottles to shoot the caps. Nobody actually did it in my class, but they gladly demonstrated how it was done. "See, you put the cap on where it's loose after the water is gone, and then you twist the bottom of the bottle and scrunch it up, and the pressure makes the lid explode off." Wow! It's a Bill Nye lesson as well.

Secondly, the bus trip to the bathrooms was viewed by some kids as a field trip. Never mind that they went to school in that building, or that it's only 5 minutes away. By cracky, those kids knew their rights! Never mind that some of them go all day with using the bathroom at school. If there's a bus trip to a bathroom, they are not going to miss it. Imagine your own kids, when you go somewhere, how they always have to check out the bathroom. Now, multiply your brood by oh...I don't know...maybe...150. Use a calculator if you need to. Don't be thinkin' they needed that trip because of the 2-Liter soda faux pas. No. This was the day before they could bring soda.

Thirdly, my own son, who is but a child, and fairly representative of the small fry population, demanded a water bottle to take to school. Well, he was out of luck, because the demanding was done to HH the night before, and by the time I got wind of it the next morning, it was too late to freeze one for him. Don't think the boy was in danger of dehydrating. NO! He had the exact same frozen bottle of water that he takes every day in his lunch. But he wanted a different water bottle, with a plastic straw, to set on his desk. Never mind that this kid goes some days without even opening his frozen bottle of water. I know, because when I unpack his lunch bag at night, the bottle is all shrunken after the ice melts. That cap hasn't even been tampered with from the time I put it on that morning.

Kids! Can't live with 'em...can't let 'em go without fluids for seven hours.

Now, to the confessional. Shhh...don't tell anybody, but today, on my plan time...I chewed a piece of Fruit Stripe Gum. It's OK. No kids were anywhere near the sugar. They were not harmed. Here is the embarrassing part. That Fruit Stripe Gum comes with little tattoos on the wrapper. All you have to do is wet your skin and stick that sucker to it for a few seconds. It seemed relatively harmless. I chose a stylish zebra riding a snowboard. Zebra. Because it's Fruit STRIPE Gum, get it? He was mostly blue, with some pink, kind of brightly colored. I put him on my inner forarm with a little spit, and admired him. I looked left, and I looked right. Nobody was around. I was at my computer. Nobody could see me from the doorway, and the window that is not covered with black butcher-paper faced out on a brick wall. I liked what I saw. And it looked like I could get a few more tattoos out of that ol' wrapper.

I put the snowboarding zebra up my forearm. Several times. Heh, heh. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom likes living on the edge. Good thing it didn't come with a self-piercing kit. After five minutes or so, I tired of being a rebel. I put a little spit on my arm to clean it off. You know how good mom-spit is at removing unwanted spots from skin! But NOOOOO! My tattoos did not wash off. They did not even fade!

Great Googley Moogley! Mrs. Hillbilly Mom could not teach 13-year-old students with an arm full of tattoos! She might as well run away and join the circus. Except that, well, the school year is almost over, and she hasn't missed a day yet, and is eligible for a handsome monetary reward, and somebody might just notice that her class is unattended for the next four weeks, which would not bode well for the handsome reward. I looked in my metal cabinet, bequeathed to me by Mabel herself when she left Basementia. OK, so the lock doesn't work, and it has a dent, and the handle is royally screwed-up, but it's MINE, by cracky! I tried a Clorox Disinfecting Wipe. It barely faded a smidgen of blue on one of my tats.

The last resort was the Fantastik. I sprayed some orangey goodness onto my inner right forearm. Lucky for me, I'm ambidextrous. I wiped it with the Clorox wet-wipey-thingy. Aha! Fantastik! People, that stuff is absolutely fantastic! Wait a minute--do you think that's how it got its name? Anyhoo, after several applications, and some good old-fashioned elbow grease, my tats were removed.

Don't tell anyone...'kay?