Thursday, February 16, 2012

Tastes Like Justice!

Several years back one my best and most experienced teachers came to me and said, "Have you seen the new kid I got today?  I think you better come take a look.  I think he's psychotic."  Rick, or "The Rick", as we often came to refer to him was definitely a strange cookie who would provide many memorable moments in his time with us.

Rick's relationship with his mother and overall family situation was also predictably strange.  There was no father in the picture.  He had a younger brother who looked like he was about ten years old, yet at every conference still sat on the mom's lap.  This kid was always seemed to be eating a giant candy cane, a Popsicle, or some other highly sticky treat which was all over his face, clothes, and fingers.  While on mom's lap, he would squirm like a three year old might while touching all my pencil cups, the candy bowl, family pictures, and anything else on my desk in arms reach (mo did little to prevent this).  It was almost impossible to concentrate on the conversation with the parent because the 'little' brother was making you so nervous. But I digress....

One day we had to call Rick's mother for some minor misbehavior.  We put Rick on the phone and had him explain what he had done wrong.  The two of them talked for a minute or so and Rick (who was already upset) used some tones and words with his mother that simply put, if I had done, my father would have told me to pick a window (then tossed me through it).  His teacher who was also with us in the office felt the same way.  "I hope your mom washes your mouth out with soap when you get home."  Rick listened to our standard adult lecture ("are we gonna have to have this talk again?" "Is that how we act in school?" "Would you like if we did that to you?" ect.) for a couple more minutes and then asked if he could use the bathroom, which we allowed.

Minutes later, a different teacher ran into my office and said in a very panicked state, "Somethings wrong with the Rick (everyone in the building knew him...)."  I raced out my office towards the bathroom near where this other teacher had seen him.  There stood Rick, foaming at the mouth.

I would have been worried if I didn't know this kid and see the expression on his face.  The foam was the foam soap you get in the bathroom.  Rick was washing his own mouth out with soap.  Lesson learned?

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