The #1 son picked up a virus last weekend. He has been feeling puny, with a drippy nose and cough. It just so happens that my teaching buddy, Mabel, has the same bug. Several of her hallway denizens have it as well. Mabel popped in to visit on our plan time in the middle of the week, and told me about the miracle elixir she has been swilling by the boxcar.
"It's the best stuff ever! It stops the cough and clears my head. And it doesn't make me drowsy. It's Walgreens brand, cherry flavored, for kids. My husband is picking some up to drop off for me later. Would it be all right if he picked some up for #1? I hear him sniffling every morning. I think it could help him, if you say it's okay."
Well. It shall never be said that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom objects to a teacher foisting drugs on her son. Of course I okayed the transaction. That's where it gets tricky. There are strict rules about the dispensation of medicine (even OTC medicine) in schools. Parent permission is required, and students are not permitted to carry the medicines on their persons. Nor store drugs in their lockers. So Mabel arranged for her hubby to drop off the #1 bottle of kid cough medicine at the office. I would then pick it up, and call #1 to my room to dose him. All above-board. On the up-and-up. Mabel thought her shipment should arrive around 11:00. That's my lunch time.
After a tasty repast of frozen sausage/egg biscuit, and not the healthy cafeteria lunch nobody wants to eat, I stopped by the office. "Has the cough medicine been dropped off for my #1 yet?"
"Oh. Yes it has. I sent Responsible Girl to your room with it. Didn't you get it?"
"No. But I have been in the cafeteria."
"Well, it should be on your desk."
I went to my classroom. There it was, sealed in the box. Sitting on my desk. On top of a note.
"Mrs. Hillbilly Mom,
Here is the cough medicine I was supposed to bring to you. I am setting it on your desk. I know how you don't like people to mess with your stuff. So I'm just leaving it here where you will see it and not messing with anything. Have a nice day!
Responsible Girl"
Let the record show that in order to leave me the note, Responsible Girl had to look around the table next to my desk, next to the control center of telephone and tower of amplifier/DVD/VCR, and see my light blue leather box full of square note papers that she used for her message. In addition, she had to select, from my desktop, her choice of mechanical pencil, red pen, or black Bic. She chose the black. In addition, I am quite sure that she did not stand while penning the note declaring how responsible she is about not messing with my stuff, but rather sat her rumpus on my cushy rolly chair as if she owned the place.
Kids. Can't live with 'em. Can't have clandestine cough medicine delivered without 'em.
3 comments:
Thank goodness it wasn't some sort of cold medicine that your friend had to sign for, slurping up her "allotment" for the month. We wouldn't want kids saying they were delivering medications, but in actuality, they were hoarding them for their little meth lab endeavor.
Yeah, it's winter time...and the livin' is easy.
Maybe she carries a notepad and pens on her person and stood while writing .......
Sioux,
Though it could be seen as a chemistry lab experiment of sorts...
Always the eternal optimist, I arise each day with the hope that the new tenth day of the ten-day forecast will show a hint of a promise of a trace of snow.
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Kathy,
Um. No. It was the identical thin blue square of paper out of my light-blue leather flap-top paper-holder thingy that a student gave me as a gift. And this courier was a member of the family with a penchant for taking tests with red ink. AND, though physically capable of standing, this one would revel in an opportunity to sit behind the desk and wield power.
I stand by my original profiling scenario. I haven't made it this far by seeing the best in everybody.
I congratulate you on your use of ellipses. Sioux has been trying to cut down. You can see that she has had a back-sliding moment...
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