Today a kid threw up.
Don't act like that's normal. This is high school we're talking about. Which means that no floor tiles were injured in the making of this post. No special sawdust was sprinkled on the upchuck. The kid came back to the classroom and informed me of her loss.
"What should I do?"
"Go tell the office."
"What are THEY going to do?"
"What am I going to do?"
"I don't want to go to the office."
"Well, sit down, I guess."
"Aren't you going to do anything?"
"I already advised you to go to the office. They will call home. They usually send people home when they throw up."
"I don't want to go to the office. They don't like me. They won't let me go home."
"It's not like they can take your throw-up away from you." Let the record show that throughout this drama, other pupils were shouting, 'Did you flush it? I hope you saved it! Because if you flushed it, they won't believe you.' See? Everybody else seems to know the procedure.
Anyhoo...Chucker went to the office, where they called home, but nobody answered. But that's not the big story. The big story is what went on while she was out of the room. When everybody was supposed to be reviewing for the test I gave this morning.
"Do they still use that sawdust stuff if somebody throws up?"
"They do on the bus."
"Yeah. I remember when that kid threw up in his shoe. He was some Basementia kid. He took off his shoe, and threw up in it. Then he carried it up to the driver, held it out, and said, 'I threw up in my shoe.'"
"What did the driver do?"
"She just looked at him, and said, 'What do you want ME to do about it?' Then we took him home and made him get off the bus."
Of course that did not bode well for study time. A couple of the studiers were downright hysterical. With laughter.
C'est la vie.