Busted Knees And A Bursting Heart

I’m a primary school teacher in England. I’m out supervising my class while I give them some extra playtime since they’ve behaved really well. I’m the only adult outside.

One child is sitting in the middle of the playground, so I go and sit with her to chat. Then, two more children join us. Then five. Then, 90% of my class is sitting in a circle!

Someone shouts, “Let’s play Duck, Duck, Goose!” And, since they asked me so nicely to play, I do. They pick me a couple of times since it’s funny to pick the teacher!

But, on the fifth time chasing a child around this ring, I trip.

It’s a full-on slide across the playground concrete that I haven’t done since I was a kid myself. I try and roll and get up quickly. The class is silent after a huge gasp. My tights are shredded. My knee and hands have beautiful grazes that, normally, I see on the kids! I just stand, registering the pain.

A few kids stand up,

Child #1: “Don’t cry, Miss!”

Child #2: “It’s only a scrape!”

Child #3: “I’ll get the medical bag!”

They sit me down and get all the wipes and plasters out. At this point, I’ve told them I’m fine, but bless them, they’re doing all the things the teachers do for them. They carry on playing while I sort it out.

Child #4: “Should we get the office to call your mum, Miss, since you’re hurt? I hope she’s not angry about your tights being ripped.”

I love my class this year.

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