Scene: The school gym during morning bus duty
A fourth grader rushes up to me. His face is red and there is sweat on his brow. He looks anxious and upset. I immediately ask, â€œCarlton, whatâ€™s wrong?â€
Then the words that strike fear in any teacherâ€™s heart: â€œI just threw up in the bathroom!â€ (Which I admit is better than throwing up at my feet which has happened on more than one occasion over the years.)
I can feel his hot breath on my face as he spits out the words. I utter the appropriate words of sympathy (and I truly feel sympathetic – he’s obviously sick), and I send him to the clinic . . . while visions of the stomach virus germs in that hot breath dance in my head.