We've been in school for 155 days so far this year. I know this because we do the same, monotonous routine of couting by hundreds, tens, and ones. Every. Single. Morning. It makes me shake.
155 days does not prepare you for hearing a little boy explain how his junk is "sticky." That's right. Sticky. His junk.
I only have a certifcate and this sounds like something someone with a license should deal with.
A little boy in the class next door, (and secretly, I'm so thankful that he is not in my class), was telling his teacher and me at recess today how "here and here" -pointing to his two 'boys'- are "sticky." The other teacher has a middle school boy of her own, so this kind of talk was no surprise. I, on the otherhand, gave him the most revolting face and just walked away.
If I have a future talking to any kind of male about how "sticky" he is "here and here," then I don't want to date. Or marry. Or have children.
Ew.
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