CONTENT WARNING: Gross (Roaches)

When my brother was younger, he used to get strange rashes during the school year. My mom didn’t think anything of it at first, just getting salves and ointments at the drug store to treat the rashes. One day, when he was in second grade, my mom went to drop him off at his classroom only to see another little boy putting what looked like tiny brown things into a box. When the little boy went to scoot past my mom, she stopped him.

Mom: “What do you have there?”

Boy: “I’m taking out the bugs!”

Mom: “The bugs? Can I see them?”

The boy showed my mother the inside of the box, which turned out to be almost half-full of cockroaches.

Mom: “Can I have that, honey? I’ll take the bugs out for you.”

Boy: “Okay!”

The boy handed my mother the box of cockroaches, and she watched my brother add his jacket and lunch box to the growing pile caused by kids not putting their things in their cubby holes. She moved to the teacher’s desk and found that the class had a substitute she was on friendly terms with.

Mom: “I’m sorry, are these what I think they are?”

She showed the substitute, who looked into the box and nodded.

Substitute: “Yep, those are roaches. You want me to call the office right now?”

Mom: “No, I’ll show them myself.”

My mother then marched herself to the main office. The secretaries immediately asked her what was in the box only to be startled and jump away from her when she showed them the roaches. Unfortunately, the principal wasn’t in, and the vice principal was doing her rounds, but my mother said it was fine and patiently waited in a chair with a box of roaches on her lap.

The second the vice principal walked in, one of the secretaries literally jumped up to attention and announced that my mother was there to see her. The vice principal invited my mother into her office.

Vice Principal: “What did you want to speak with me about, Mrs. [Mom’s Last Name]?”

Mom set the box of cockroaches on the desk.

Mom: “Were you aware of the cockroach issues in the second-grade classrooms?

The vice principal looked into the box, and her face went pale.

Vice Principal: “Oh, my God!”

She immediately grabbed the phone and called the head custodian, who came to the office.

Vice Principal: “Were you aware we had a roach problem in the classrooms?”

Head Custodian: “Yes, ma’am, I was.”

Vice Principal: “And did you make a report of this? Is [Principal] aware of this?”

Head Custodian: “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

Vice Principal: “What’s being done about this?”

Head Custodian: *Shrugs*

The vice principal and my mother were both furious. While the vice principal tried to get a hold of exterminators, she also gave my mom the phone numbers for some people higher up in the school district so she could make more formal complaints about the school not handling the situation properly. They ended up having to fumigate the school during a school break due to the chemicals involved being harmful.

The rashes my brother was getting? Turns out he’s allergic to cockroaches.

When I was teaching third grade, I had a student who struggled with reading. This was back in the olden days, when it was unusual for an eight-year-old to be functionally illiterate. She was particularly quiet and hesitant in class, and when I talked to her, I realized why: previous teachers had somehow convinced her she wasn’t very bright. I could see how [Student] had flown under the radar; she was, after all, a very quiet and well-behaved child, and I’m sure her previous teachers had matters and students and behaviors that seemed more pressing. But I liked to check in with my students individually when able to, and after one conversation with [Student], I could tell that she was incredibly intelligent. The way she thought things over and the way she was able to make many logical connections in her head was like some of my more typically intelligent students.

One day, during a semi-private conversation, [Student] opened up to me in frustration. The way she ranted to me all made sense, but something about the way she spoke about reading seemed off.

Me: “[Student], have you ever had your eyes checked?”

Student: “No, I haven’t.”

I’m sure she must have done it in kindergarten, but the state I was teaching in at the time only mandated eye tests in kindergarten, and I’d heard of children falling through the cracks. I encouraged her to ask her parents about getting her vision checked. From the sound of it, they were a bit reluctant, but to their credit, they followed through.

The next week, [Student] burst into class with a huge grin on her face.

Student: “During the eye test, I could see clearly for the first time!”

It turned out that I was correct. [Student] had horrible vision. Apparently, her vision was so poor that the new glasses she got the following week were only half of the prescription needed to fully correct her vision, and she would get the full prescription in a few months, so as not to overwhelm her brain with the sudden clarity!

Within days of getting her first pair of glasses, [Student] was practically a different child. She was more outgoing and confident, engaging with her classmates, raising her hand to answer questions, and even laughing more.

I have never forgotten this incident, but I thought to share it here after getting an email from [Student] a few days ago with a PDF attached. It was a scientific paper she had written in grad school, which was in very technical jargon that I couldn’t understand, but she also thanked me for seeing the intelligence in her when everyone else had dismissed her.

I am a therapy dog handler, and my canine partner and I volunteer at a couple of local schools.

Baldur, if I may be permitted to brag, is a stunning eighty-pound German shepherd with a magnificent black and red coat. I wish I had a dollar for every time someone wants to take a picture of him, and I’m used to him getting a lot of attention when we go out.

One of the schools in town is designated as a sort of conduit for the children from recently arrived immigrant families who do not speak much English yet. They improve their language skills with bilingual teachers, and they are mainstreamed into other district schools when they’re ready. 

We started there last fall, and after the first session was over, the two of us began walking across the playground to where I had parked my car.

The playground was teeming with kindergartners, and as we passed, they parted like the Red Sea in front of Charlton Heston, all of them bouncing up and down, pointing and chattering in Spanish — a language I do not speak. Their excitement was palpable, and I admit that I was basking a bit in Baldur’s reflected glory — although it was unusual that none of them were running up to pet him.

It wasn’t until the next week that one of the teachers pulled me aside and informed me that the children thought they were seeing a wolf.

Related:
May There Be Many More Doggie Pats In Her Future
When They Only Like You For Your Dog
Swoop And Squat And SCURRY AWAY!
It’s Not Baldur’s Fault He Has No Thumbs!

I teach library and technology in a school that covers pre-K to eighth grade (three-year-olds up to fourteen-year-olds).

Two years ago, I got a betta fish for the classroom. This year, for Christmas, I decided to upgrade the betta fish’s ten-gallon tank to a thirty-gallon tank, which meant a stronger heater, new water filter, more plants, more decorations, etc.

I also decided to get a second fish; a fish to help with the little bit of algae that grew in the tank would be great. So, at the local pet store, I outlined the tank size and setup to their fish expert, and they paired me out with a clown pleco.

On the clown pleco’s first day at school, he was easily the most popular living thing in the building. Everyone wanted to meet him, watch him, and learn about him. I gave several dozen five-minute lectures on plecos and their role in their ecosystem to students and adults alike.

The second day… we couldn’t find him.

That particular week, I was staying very late each night because of our yearly book fair. Every night when I got my stuff to leave, I checked on the pleco and betta, saw them, saw that they were both happy, and left for the night.

The next day, the betta fish was swishing about happily, inspecting everything in the tank, but the pleco could have been on another continent for all we knew. And every day, all the students would ask me where he was. I would assure them I’d seen him the night before, and they were suspicious but accepted that answer.

Finally, after a week of this, an eighth grader was the latest to ask where the new invisible fish was, and I ASSURED HIM that I had seen the fish the night before. Then, he tentatively asked the million-dollar question.

Student: “Miss… can fish be nocturnal?” 

Several other students and I jumped on our computers and quickly did searches on our favorite animal information websites.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how my class wound up with a CLASS PET that only comes out at NIGHT.

When I was a kid in elementary school (like first or second grade), I had one of the sweetest teachers ever. She was an older woman who liked to reward students and had a fun way to reward everyone — but there was one kid who screwed around and found out.

We had a board of gold star stickers, and you got a gold star for doing exceptionally well in class — not just answering questions and whatnot but helping to clean up, helping your classmates, and so on. On Friday, [Teacher] would bring in a bag of mini candy bars, little packs of hard candy, and things like that. Every Friday, each student got to pick a piece of candy, but if you got three gold stars, you got another piece. Not only was it a good incentive for us, but it was also a fun math lesson because every three gold stars was another piece of candy. Got six stars? You get two extra pieces.

There was one boy in my class who was the stereotype of a class clown. He was a brat. He never did his work, he never helped out, and he acted like he’d never been told “no” in his life. We never saw a single gold star beside his name on the board. He always threw a big fit when Friday came around and he only got his single piece of candy.

One week, we got a new girl in the class, and [Teacher] brought in a big bag of Almond Joys. (For those who don’t know, they’re bars of sweet coconut with an almond on top, covered in milk chocolate. They’re so good.) Unfortunately, the new girl was allergic to almonds, so she wasn’t able to eat the candy. [Teacher] was really nice about it, though; she still had some candy from the previous week (a bag of Smarties, I think?), so she gave her those instead, and since she’d inconvenienced her, she gave her an extra one to apologize.

Well… the class brat caught on.

The next week, [Teacher] surprised us with brownies — the ones in the plastic wrapper that had the fudge icing and walnuts on top. Immediately, [Brat] declared that he was allergic to walnuts and couldn’t eat them, and the teacher gave him two Almond Joys instead.

The following Monday at lunch, when [Teacher] brought us to the cafeteria for lunch, she hung back for a few minutes to chat with another teacher — just in time to see [Brat] open his lunch bag and pull out…

A brownie covered in walnuts.

I didn’t know the word “cathartic” at the time, but it certainly applies. [Teacher] came over to the desk to take the brownie, reminding him of his allergies and asking if he would like her to call the school nurse. [Brat] wailed and whined that his mother had bought him a whole box, claimed that he wasn’t that allergic, and told her to give it back.

When we got back to the classroom, [Teacher] gave us a quick lesson on the importance of not lying to others with the story, The Boy Who Cried Wolf. [Brat] looked like he had sucked on a lemon.

The next day, [Brat] came in a bit later than usual — with his mother, who looked furious. [Brat] looked smug. It was pretty clear that he had lied to his mother about the brownie, because she started screeching (in front of a class of five- and six-year-olds) about how [Teacher] had taken [Brat]’s entire lunch.

Unfortunately, she probably didn’t count on two things: one, [Teacher] was perfectly pleasant and explained that she was only looking out for [Brat]’s allergies, and two, a class of five- and six-year-olds can be almost too honest. We all vouched for her; she only took the brownie because [Brat] had said he was allergic to walnuts.

[Brat]’s mom clammed up quickly, and [Brat]’s face went pale as a sheet. Mom apologized to our teacher, thanked her for looking out for her son, and glared at him until he shrunk into his chair.

I don’t know what kind of punishment he faced after class, but he never caused trouble again.