#1. Last Friday a raging bull took over the schoolyard. Somehow I missed the entire event--what is it that I do with my time?--but heard the rendering of the tale today. And please don't let the word "rendering" linger too long in your consciousness, for reasons on which I shan't elaborate. Here's how it played out. The principal got a call from the local sheriff telling him to clear the playground because an angry bull was heading straight for the school. This is how I imagine that conversation going:
Principal: Hey, Sheriff Podunk, how's it goin'?
Sheriff: Mr. Principal, listen, we got us a problem here. I'm gonna need you to get all yore kids inside. There's been a bull sighted heading yore way, and he is one pissed off bastard.
Principal: Heh, heh... (nervous laughter indicating that he suspects this might be a joke, but isn't sure how to respond. After all, it's a good ol' boys club out here, and isn't this just the kind of thing that Sheriff Podunk would do to him, especially since they played football together in high school and have been giving each other**censored**ever since then?)
Sheriff: (after long pause) Principal?
Principal: Yeah?
Sheriff: Um, so you'll get that taken care of then? Gittin' the kids inside? (Reluctant to hang up because he's not sure whether the principal really understands the situation or not. Starting to feel concerned because his children attend school there and now he's not so sure that he wants them going somewhere with such a dimwitted principal* at the helm. Remembering that hard blow the principal took to the head in the homecoming game of '82...)
Principal: (Sobering up a bit) Oh, well, sure thing, then....um, so you're saying there's a bull out there? (Seeking confirmation while at the same time trying not to sound like he didn't get it the first time, which he didn't)
Sheriff: Yup. And he's right pissed off. So you better get those kids inside, we don't want nobody gittin' hurt.
Principal: Uh, yeah, right then. I'll do it right now. (Hangs up, still looking suspiciously at telephone. Calls secretary, tells her to get the kids inside. Continues to feel confused about the situation. Sees something shiny and stops thinking about it.)
I won't tell you how it ends; let's just leave it with an understanding that no children were hurt, although some of our preschool kids were traumatized by the whole event. And there's one less angry bull in my school district.
#2. Today I went out to get my little kindergarten boys from recess. While I was waiting for them to come frolicking over, another youngster came over to talk to me. Kindergartners are like that; they see any adult as a potential repository for their thoughts. What's lovely is that they introduce these thoughts with no background whatsoever. They just say what's on their mind--bam!--and then they walk away. Why couldn't more people be that way? Think of all the time it would save.
Anyway, this poor young man with great big puppy dog eyes came over to me and said, in one long and unbroken breath, "Wobert-told-me-he-didn't-want-to-play-with-me-and-he-wasn't-my-
friend-anymore-and-he-BWOKE...MY...HOT!" Oh, broken hearts! The angst of youth! And lawsy, what does one say to this, especially when one knows that Wobert will likely come prancing over any minute now, precious incident forgotten, to ask Puppy Eyes if he wants to play? I was exerting too much energy keeping the laughter on the inside to really respond appropriately, so I just shook my head sadly and grunted, "Mm-hmm." I knew that Mr. Eyes would grant instant forgiveness to Wobert when the time came, so with a pat on the back and a push toward the jungle gym, I sent him on his way.
And that, my friends, is life on the playground.
*For the record, the principal is not really dimwitted. A 'yuk it up good ol' boy,' yes, but certainly not dimwitted. I have simply taken artistic license to enhance your reading pleasure, and I do so hope it worked.
7 comments:
I simply LUB the school stories! are you pulling a PW leaving us hanging about the bull? very clever...
oh, doris rose....oh,dear.
1. "there's one less angry bull"
2. "some of our preschool kids were traumatized"
add in the "no time to spare" factor, and i think we all know what happened to that bull, don't we?
oh, dear. oh, my. i think the answer is in story #2, in between "they just say what's on their mind" and "then they walk away." preschool trauma, indeed.
Oh, dear, indeed. In between my pee-my-pants laughter, I am quite upset, as I have a deep, abiding connection to all things bullish. Sniff. Moi's Hot Bwoke.
Would that we could all express like a child
sadly this child has already decided to attach meaning to what he heard - I m sure he was happy playing with you instead you say stuff that is much harder to get much less attach meaning to :)
for the record regarding bwoken hots, this:
a five year old generally makes up or moves on much more quickly than a seasoned adult; this (very useful) flexibility leads us big 'uns to assume that the bwoken hot is less "real" at Five than it is in later life...but that just ain't true.
yet they're always game for another go at it. now *there's* a difference, eh.
I'm going to find that kid next week and hug the dickens out of him. He won't know why, but I will.
And regarding the bull, well...sigh. It's country living out there, folks. They solve problems with a shotgun. Let's all just stick our fingers in our ears and sing, "La, la, la" until it goes away.
it worked.... loved that principal..... though he wasn't really a pal, was he?
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