Dad on Duty #62 Part II

So this is what happened after, and around, Buddy the Dog.

*********
In the middle of walking Buddy through the neighborhood near the school to try to find his home, the Boss calls me and asks if I can walk one of our high maintenance kids around too.

Sure. We can all walk together for a bit.

This kid really benefits from and responds to activity; he’s struggling with sitting still and following the routine. But he’s sweet, affectionate and perfectly cooperative when he’s doing something.

So we lap the school a couple times and chat while waiting for Vanessa to come get Buddy. After Buddy heads off to Vanessa’s house, the boy and I go run a couple errands. He seems fine now. He goes to lunch with his class. That’s all he needed, at least for now.

*********
PTA is providing lunch for the teachers and staff today. It’s Chick Fila! Ruth has two distinct jobs; she’s a teacher here but she’s also the President of the PTA, and is in charge of this particular project today.

So between classes, she hauls butt over the Chick Fila to grab the food.

She’s a little late; teachers are already headed upstairs, and the food’s not here yet.

I happen to look out the front doors after dropping my little friend at lunch, and here comes an SUV, pretty fast, heading the wrong way into the front driveway. It skids to a stop against the curb, pointed against the normal traffic flow.

What the HELL?!?

I start moving, quickly, that way.

Out pops Ruth.

Oh. Ok. When I get there, she’s frantically unloading Chick Fila from the back of her Tahoe. Another PTA Mom is helping too, and we quickly gather up lunch and rush upstairs to feed the milling, hungry teachers before there’s a riot.

*******
Just as I get upstairs, arms full of tea, the Boss calls me. “Can you come the cafeteria right now?”

Sure. There’s still more stuff in Ruth’s car though. I literally run back out, grab a couple more teas, run back upstairs, then report to the cafeteria. The Boss asks if I can do the ice cream station, because the cafeteria staff is tied up with the health inspector.

Sure. One more quick run with the last of the food for the teachers and I’ll be right there. RUN another load up to the lounge and as I return to the cafeteria, the health inspector is walking out. Nevermind, all good now.

Except I’m having chest pains…..

********
Perfect timing to be standing in the hallway.

The next wave of little kids is heading down to lunch, and there appears to be a traffic jam. A couple of teachers look up at me and wave me down to where they are.

A little guy has barfed in the middle of the hallway. And on himself.

He’s standing, kinda frozen, looking down at the mess. I throw my gloves on and go check him out. He still looks pretty sick.

One of the teachers tells me this kid has a significant chronic illness; the vomiting might be related to that. I switch from clean up mode to patient assessment. I check his pulse (fast, but steady and strong). I think we’re OK to walk to Mary’s office. I call for Mike to come clean up, and one of the teachers grabs a traffic cone to block off the barf. The hallway is full of kids going to and coming from lunch. It’s packed.

When I get to Mary’s office, she is at capacity. I sit my little patient on one of the beds and ask Mary to look at him. I’m a little nervous about him. I trade her; I’ll take the bump that needs an ice pack and the nosebleed, if you’ll come look at this guy. We switch places.

She quickly makes the decision to call Mom and send our little guy home.

In the meantime, I fix up a bug bite, another nose bleed and a lost tooth. In about 15 minutes.

********
It’s time to go to lunch with Tori.

As we’re finishing up, I see a 3rd grade girl crying at the table behind us. I go over to ask what’s going on, and the entire table chimes in; “He made her cry!” pointing to a boy who is often at the center of disturbances. “Na-uh, she put up her middle finger!” he retorts.

Oh good lord.

As it turns out, she did no such thing; she accidently displayed her middle finger trying to show somebody an injury. A boy then jumped on that and embarrassed her.

She and I talk quietly…as quietly as one can during lunchtime in the cafeteria…..and after several minutes she’s fine. She hugs my neck hard, and wipes her face and nose on my shirt. That’s OK. Finally she nods her head when I ask “all good now?” and smiles broadly at me.

Nice feeling.

******
Apparently today is Body Function Day. And nobody told me.

I’m helping herd little kids during bathroom break time. One of the teachers sticks her head out, making a very unpleasant face, and asks “can you check that? On the floor. I think it’s….” she trails off, pointing to the boys side of the bathroom.

I look. Right about then she quietly mouths “Poop”. Yep. That’s what it is.

Another call to Mike for cleanup. Here he comes, shaking his head…

He’s gotta be thinking that cleaning up after elephants at the circus would be better than this.

******
Today is Joycelyn’s last day. She is transferring to Headquarters to work (again) with our previous principal.

It’s very emotional for her, and for all of us.

At one point today, Mrs. Hill’s class comes to the office. They approach quietly, in stealth mode.

Each child is holding a card he or she wrote to Joycelyn.

Without saying a word, the kids file in and, one by one, lay the cards on her desk in front of her.

She holds it together for the first few kids, but that doesn’t last long. Joycelyn comes unraveled. The kids bravely keep marching, delivering their notes of love. As Joycelyn sobs uncontrollably at her desk.

And, after delivering the last card, in silence, they head back out to class.

*******
At the end of the day, we had a fire drill.

Sorta.

We did a pretty bad job on the actual fire drill part. But we were distracted.

We told Joycelyn that the kids were going to do a flash mob dance that the teachers didn’t know about, and we needed her to come out and film it.

When she gets to the upstairs patio to start filming, the entire school….650 kids….are lined up in front of her, holding signs.

They start singing along to “everything is awesome, when you’re part of a team!” and hold up their signs.

All written to her, to Joycelyn. Messages of love and appreciation for her service to them, for so many years.

At first, Joycelyn doesn’t get it. She can’t see the signs well. Rosie, standing next to her, tells her “oh good Lord; put on your glasses. The signs are for YOU.”

It’s a beautiful tribute, done marvelously well.

Afterwards, Joycelyn comes down to the field and hugs as many of the kids as she can.

And just like that, this part of her life is over. She moves on.

But she carries a little piece of every one of those kids…every one of them….in her heart. And they all have a little Joycelyn in their hearts too, forever.