The one with the grudge..

Being a teacher has its pros and cons. The pros are that you get to teach kids using funny accents & deliberate mispronunciations and then laugh at them as they pay for it for the rest of their lives*evil grin*. The cons are that there has got to be discipline. Nobody ever wants a tongue lashing, or time out, or in the old days-a good ol’ ass whooping(according to our constitution, and the BNC discipline rules and regulations-ass whooping is not part of a teachers job description). So in the institution that I work in, we don't hit children(so help us God),or “chapa” them(as my vernacular so aptly puts it). But we darn well discipline them. Almost daily. Don’t they ever learn? Don’t we?

and ofcourse we don't do this..*whistles**looks around*

Here's a discipline story I won't ever forget. There was a lil two and a half year old boy, Ange let's call him! He was being sooo unruly, and loud, and naughty. So I got upset(cross,unhappy,disappointed-diplomatic words teachers use. Really, I was downright pissed off). So I put him in the toy box for time out(when I put him in the corner he thought it’s a new game, so toy box it had to be). And hovered there with my lightning eyes so he knew I meant bi'ness. He wailed and wailed. Then wailed some more. We went out for lunch (ok I stood at the door peeping in for like 1 minute 43.5333972 seconds before I was back for him)and I found him still crying-eyes puffy, face hot. He was miserable. And he associated his misery with me.

I felt so guilty (this was one of my 1st punishing experiences-I assure u I no longer feel this guilt thing anymore). So yeah he slept & woke up and was generally subdued till hometime. The next morning, he came in bubbly as usual, but when I greeted him he gave me lightning eyes and ran straight for the toys. I was aghast. I was saddened. It was awkward. Was he giving me silent treatment? He must still be angry-I thought. Why won't he talk to me? What should I do now? Should I write him a letter? Well he cant read, so maybe a gift? What's that frown he’s making when he looks my way?

Lightning Eyes

It was a trying morning.

So later in the morning I called him. He didn't answer. Biting my fingernails I went to him & spoke. He stared at me blankly. Well he probably didn't understand, but still. I was so panicky that I confided in another teacher. I had to patch up this mess. After the crazy stare she gave me she replied, 
“He’s too young”. 
”Huh”, I retorted. 
“He can't hold a grudge. Kids don't hold grudges”. 
 WHAT I thought? And then I said it out loud. 
“WHAT,” I said. 
And surely, when I went back to the kids, with my new mindset, lil Ange joined in, jumping & shouting, holding my hand and trying to get my attention. He was my friend again. And where I thought he was ignoring me, he just wasn’t interested in what I had to say<OUCH>. Where I thought he was bitter, is that word even in his vocabulary? Where he stared at me blankly, well..he stared at me blankly.

Got me thinking. When is it that we learn to hold grudges? When do we learn bitterness?

"..Keeps no record of wrong.." After the wailing & weeping, the hurt and the feelings of "I don't deserve this. (I don’t deserve to be in this toy box)!!",you come back the next day and start over. That’s not to say you forget entirely that you were hurt. I mean when Ange did the wrong thing AGAIN that same morning, he saw my lightning eyes and must have remembered the previous day’s repercussions, and was immediately remorseful. So he remembered. But-BUT-he chose not to remember. Does that make sense? You haven’t entirely forgotten the harsh words spoken, or the heart broken, but you choose not to wake up and remind yourself that, “oh yes, I remember that yesterday I was really hurt by you”. I think we constantly decide to keep a record for keeps sake, instead of just letting it go. It happened. But don’t keep it!

Keep no RECORD of wrong. BaDUMtshh!!

Needless to say, I've punished Ange severally after that. And he’s always forgiven me:)!

The one with the Projectile Vomit...

I work for kids! 

Precisely the 1 and a half to 3 year old type.

Yes,those lil guys are my employers. If they're not happy..NO ONES HAPPY!! Its nerve wrecking never knowing your bosses next move..and not just because their fine motor skills and balance are not fully developed. I can never anticipate what they'll say next. Mainly because they don't quite speak..err..language. Can you see how difficult this would be?

 However,I'm fortunate that these particular bosses aren't all that bad. I mean they started off moody and weepy; nothing I did made them happy. But now we're well on the way to being best friends. I mean,how many of you get to hug and kiss your employer in the morning, and randomly throughout the day? If your hand is raised, put it down and file for harassment. That's gotta be illegal somewhere! 

How many of you get to nap when your boss is napping,and not just cover for them when a client walks in? How many of you get to see your boss in their funny undies? Again,if you have-please QUIT NOW-get a lawyer-SUE! There's something wrong with where you work o.O 

Also, I get to see & hear pretty amazing stuff. Some gross,but mainly amazing! And the most amazing thing is what these Lil Men & Women teach me. Daily!....Today,its that projectile vomit exists(hence how it got its name). Shocked was I when one minute I'm holding lil girls hand(we'll call her M),the next there's a jet of her lunch spewing in front of her,kinda like Iceman's ice bridge which he slides along(if you don't have the slightest clue what I'm talking about, log out now and don't talk to me ever. OR just find out who Iceman is here). 

Its a pretty crappy pic but HEY that's
the Iceman I remember

So pre-projectile incident,lil girl was evidently struggling. Problem is she doesn't speak language so I had no clue why she was fussing and crying, until of course she threw up. Then it hit me! No,really it did. And I'm not sure I can wear these shoes again. So it got me thinking about God, as these kids often do. 

Psalm 139 was broken down proper here."...you have searched me & you know me...before a word is on my tongue you know it completely..test me and know my anxious thoughts". Lil M must have wished I already knew her thoughts,so that when she was gargling out her sentiments,I would have already known she was trying to scream "I GATTA BARF". 

When she was frustrated I'd already be working on her cure,which in this case would be a brown bag. And me standing 5 metres away! 

When she was doubled over in pain and couldn't speak,I would still hear! 

When she couldn't understand what was going on as she clutched her round tummy,I'd already be rubbing her back in comfort-because I'd already know.

And we're lucky that with our limited speech,in our frustration,as we wail & weep,and eventually barf-HE already knows. He already understands. And he's gotchu! 

God's always got the brown bag ready..:-). 

Incase you're wondering-Lil M was rushed to hospital. And is recovering. My shoes never made it though..:'(