fuck you bitch

It was a good morning, until the floor tables (low tables we have so the childen can work on the floor if they want to) were flipped over and "fuck you bitch" was exposed on two of them; in dark pencil, in two different hand writings. WTF. Ruin my morning. Rang the bell, made an announcement, asked anyone to raise their hand who might know something about the bad words written on the floor tables. Said if I didn't find out who did it, we wouldn't have recess until I did.

I'd seen it before. I mean, bitch - fuck - it's been graffiti'ed other places in my classroom in random places, but it's been awhile - and it set me off. Just when you think your class is relatively normal and functioning, it's like oh yeah, and then there's this...

I trusted I., my super star, to scrub the tables with a little ajax. He, by the way, is really the coolest most mature and wise second grader ever, in the world. Not only brilliant, but just a genuine amazing boy. But this is a story for another day. My stepdaughter needs to use the computer, after all.

So after gym we usually go outside for recess, and today was this unseasonably gorgeous day. But I said we couldn't go out. I was dying to go out myself for some fresh air, but had to stick to my guns. So I give them the speech, there in the hallway next to the doors, "I said we're not going out until I know who wrote those words." Etc, etc.

Well. D. and G. came forward. I took the rest of the kids outside while they stayed with my para. By the time I got to them, G. was crying and D. was sullen. "What were you thinking?" I asked. These are good kids. G's mom is a bit nuts (the one who wanted to beat me up when G. had lice, again), and D. is not a great student (soooo lazy), but they are not the kids I worry about or would expect "fuck you bitch" to come out of. I walked away and left them in an area alone (but in view) and let them stew awhile. When I went back, I asked them what they thought I should do, what should be their consequence.

I don't remember how it went or if any were volunteered. By this time of night I am so worn out I can't even remember what I ate for dinner. But we settled on their cleaning all the tables in the room, and writing an apology letter to the rest of the class which they would have to read.

And they did. At the end of the day, they both read their letters, apologizing and promising to never write bad words in the classroom again. G. even wrote "I know I'm better than that. I will never, ever write bad words again."

After they were finished reading, I asked the class if they had anything to say, and to raise their hands if they did.

I. raised his hand first. "Thank you for being honest," he said. Then I called on A. "Thank you for being brave," he said. and then I called Y., a first grader who raises her hand before a question is even asked, every time, and then has nothing to say when I call on her, but I called on her anyway. "Thank you.... uhhhhh...." oh brother. but I waited... "for... uh... being responsible."
Wow. that was a good one.

So there they are. My kids. It turned out to be a kind of good day in the end.