BAD DAY AT BLACK CRAYON

It was a Thursday at Harold D. Perkins Elementary teachers’ lounge.  The buzz was that Donnie Hays had been held back in Mrs. Billings’ kindergarten class.

            “Era, I know you have her class today.  Watch out – He’s always up to something.”

            “No problem, ladies!  To me, kindergarteners are simply very large toddlers.”

            Mrs. Todd spoke up.  “Oh, Era!  You haven’t heard yet.  Mrs. Billings went home with strep Monday.”

            Now I was terrified!  Memories returned from bouts of strep I’d had in previous years.  “No!  I truly can’t!  Please guys – I’ll take anyone’s class.  Please trade with me!  Seriously.  Strep has almost killed me in the past!”

            I had no takers, so I rushed to the room with Lysol Spray and wipes in hand.  Light switches, Doorknob, pens, pencils, markers, erasers, were sanitized just before the 7:30 bell.  I placed one full bottle of hand sanitizer by the door and another on the teacher’s desk. 

            As the kids arrived, I told them to get started on their floral coloring sheet.  Bonnie, a blonde sweetie came over to say, “Ms. Parham, I have to tell you something.”

            “Bonnie, first put away your snack, jacket and backpack.”

            As she started with those tasks, I looked over the room I’d be in today.  Shiny tile flooring, a padded office chair on rollers and a large mahogany desk.  “Well,” I told myself, “no matter how wild Donnie gets, I’m living in luxury today.” 

            As the announcements began on the loudspeaker, Bonnie was pulling on my sleeve.  “Ms. Parham, I need to tell you something.”  She was whispering and it didn’t seem like it was urgent.

            “Honey, let’s finish the pledge then come back and we’ll talk.”  She put her hand over her heart and recited the pledge with the class and me.

            “Invisible, with justice for all.”

            “Okay, pretty girl, what did you want to say.”  I sat down in the dream chair.

            I’d expected maybe she’d gotten a new kitten or planned on having ice cream at lunch…the usual stuff little ones call secrets.

            She came up close and quietly mumbled something. 

            “Bonnie, I need you to speak up.  The others can’t hear…they are at their seats.  Come a little closer, and speak up please.”

            She again inched her face close to mine and in what I can only describe as ‘whisper yelling’ said, “I….HAVE….STREP!”   My mind went blank.  I’d arrived at school tired, practically limping into the room but now it seemed I was infused with energy even Superman would envy.  Without my brain becoming involved, both feet shot up and shoved against that beautiful desk, sending me flying across that shiny tile flooring.  In my trip across the room, I noticed eighteen sets of large round eyes, and eighteen mouths in the shape of tiny O’s following my flight into the white board.  No one of my age has ever moved so quickly. 

            Awkwardly, I stood and told the kids, “Please keep coloring.  We’ll give your pictures to Mrs. Billings to help make her better.  Bonnie, please come over to the door with me.” 

            We stepped across the threshold of the door, and I said, “Sweetie, you need to go see Nurse Collins.  And tell your secret.”

            “But Mama says it’s a big secret.  She said, ‘Don’t tell anyone.’”

            “Bonnie, telling secrets to doctors and nurses is always okay.  Do you know where the nurse’s office is?”

            “Yes, but the two friends I want to walk with me…  I want Henry and…”

            “No, no.  Bonnie, not today.  We don’t need them to maybe get your sickness.”  I remembered how very contagious strep is.

            “No fair!  Mrs. Billings always lets sick people choose two friends to walk to the nurse with.”

            “Well, we can’t today.”

            Looking like she would cry, I quickly added, “Because, you see, because, well, today is actually…  It’s actually…  Today is National Walk By Yourself To The Nurse Day!”  I clapped my hands and smiled very big.

            Her eyes lit up.  “Will I be on TV?”

            “Ahh…..Who knows?  Get going now”

            She started walking looking left and right I’m sure to see if there were camera crews for the national celebration.

            I told myself, “Look, that classroom is your domain today.  You are the only registered voter in there so it’s fine to declare a holiday.”

            I opened the door to find Donnie busy lining up the classroom.  When they saw me, they all clapped.  Some of them were jumping up and down yelling, “Me a ride!  Me a ride!  Mrs. Billings never rides her chair!”

            I was about to open my mouth when Donnie explained, “I got them in line order.” 

            “Ahh…well, it’s actually time for a morning video.  Everyone to the carpet.” 

            As they watched, I dug through my tote looking for anything that could ward off the dreaded Strep.  Nothing.  I re-sanitized my hands for the fourth time today.  I vividly remembered those three words forcefully being shot into my nose and mouth along with tiny droplets of poisonous strep mixed with tiny droplets of water. Ugh!

            The video ended and I told them, “I’ll give you guys fifteen minutes to complete your coloring sheets for Mrs. Billings.  You can draw a picture of yourself on the back so she can remember how much she misses you.” 

            As they worked, I decided to complete the attendance and then read the schedule for the day.  For each task to be done, I walked around the room, finding the materials that would be needed.  Then looked back at the kids finishing up.

            To my shock, around 8 or so kids were peeling the paper off their black crayons.  Donnie was up from his table and directing the fiasco. 

            “Hey guys!  Don’t you know those papers keep the crayons from breaking.  What’s up?!”

            Ryan spoke up, “Well, Donnie says we have to protest because you took a chair ride and won’t let us have one.”

            I was speechless.  Until I noticed they were digging their nails in the black crayons. 

            “Stop right now!  I’m so disappointed to have to write a note about this.  Your crayons are for you to make beautiful things here.  Please put your sheets in your mailboxes and put up all crayons.  We’re going to walk to PE.”

            I had everyone use hand sanitizer to no avail.  The black bits were lodged underneath their nails.  We stopped at the bathroom and the offenders washed their hands…again to no avail.  So, I marched them all to PE.

            Feeling like a failure, I returned to the teachers’ lounge to see if someone had advice.  Instead, Miss Sweenie and Mr. Cole related what had happened to poor Mrs. Phillips on Tuesday and Wednesday.

            Mrs. Phillips is a new sub and the older classes have had a blast knowing she knows nothing.  So, when it’s time to go to the cafeteria, they take her upstairs, down several halls then downstairs.  They convinced her only their class was allowed ice cream with lunch every day due to “Winning a State Wide Math Festival.”  We all feel so bad for all she’s gone through.

            But Mrs. Phillips had been Mrs. Billings sub Tuesday and Wednesday. Tuesday was the red crayon day.  Donnie had dug into his red crayon with all ten nails.  Telling Mrs. Phillips he was bleeding and yelling for her to grab Band-Aids.  She hurried over and yanked out some of them while Donnie pretended cry while saying, “I want my Mommie!”  By the time she’d peeled off the papers from the first Band-Aid, she realized that this was not blood.  The kids had a good laugh, and a note was sent home.

            I felt somewhat better, but Mr. Cole said, “Oh, that’s not all.  Not at all indeed!  Wednesday was so much better.  And Mrs. Phillips was again there.  With Donnie.  And this next exploit is why she’s not here today.

            “Apparently, Wednesday a few minutes before the class went to their bathroom break, Donnie talked four other boys into digging their nails into his brown crayon…handing it to each when Mrs. Phillips was checking papers.  He assured them that Mrs. Phillips loves art projects and that after the bathroom break, they’d all show their creation.   “We’ll all get a reward!”  He skipped using the bathroom and got back to the class first.  He took Mrs. Phillips aside and pretended to cry saying, “Tony, Silas, Andrew, and Jonathan are all playing with their poop in the bathroom!” 

            By this time, Miss Phillips had had it.  She rewarded Donnie for telling her with a sucker and tore into the 4 boys.  Finally, one looked up and said, “Donnie said you’d like it!”  Then it hit her.  Crayons!  She immediately notified the office she would not be coming on Thursday.  Which is why you are here.” 

            This time, it was my mouth that was formed into an O. 

            I was kinda upset about not being warned about all that this morning in the teachers’ lounge and said so.

            “We tried talking to you about Donnie…but you said all you have to do is just see them as very large toddlers.  As though that would take care of any and everything!”

            Smiling to hide my embarrassment, I returned to my classroom for the fifteen minutes I had left while they were still in Art. 

            It was probably my imagination, but it seemed my throat was hurting.  I had to find something, anything that would negate those strep droplets of death! 

            Starring at the hand sanitizer I figured if I could just get it into where those filthy droplets resided right now.  I’d recently seen a cop show on TV where the criminals snorted what they wanted in their body by holding one nostril shut with one hand and fiercely snorting their ‘medicine’ up the remaining nostril. 

            I decided to give it a try.  I took a piece of paper squirted a blob on it and snorted it.  Went and got the kids.  Snorted.  Read them a story.  Snorted.  Very discreetly with a book in front of me.   I felt a sort of kinship with the addicts on the TV show now.

            I’m no doctor (duh!) but I didn’t get sick!  At all!  Even a little.  Who knew hand sanitizer was so powerful?

            The Art teacher told me that some of the kids had given Donnie money and/or skittles to get in the front of the line for the ‘chair ride’.  He had no idea what it meant – thank Heavens!  I assured him I’d be having him return everything. 

            Walking back to class, I realized someday, when I’m 90 years old and in a retirement home, I will most likely flip on the TV and see Mr. Donnie Hays smiling, shaking hands and kissing babies.  All while surrounded by CIA.

            God help us all!