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If you can’t take the snot, get out of the classroom

Aside from, “Good job!” the words I utter most in a work day are, “Don’t pick your nose.  Do you want a tissue?”  Snot is just a part of a teacher’s life, and I’m beyond being grossed out by it.  I imagine this is how doctors feel about blood.

A couple of weeks ago, I’d reminded a student not to pick his nose and handed him a tissue box, when he said brightly (as if this alternative to tissues might be the most brilliant idea he’s had all year), “Oh, sometimes I just like to pick my nose and wipe it on my pants.”  Sometimes efficiency isn’t a good goal.

The next week, I asked a student if she could do some drill work.  “No,” she said firmly, “and the reason I can’t is that there’s a giant booger in my nose.”  We took care of that right away.  She wasn’t kidding.

My all-time favorite snot memory (and yes, there are a lot) happened last year.  I was reading aloud and paused to correct a child, “Don’t pick your nose.”  He’s generally compliant, so I was surprised that a few seconds later, he’d started again.  I corrected again, more firmly.  He held evidence up for inspection, and defended his actions: “I was just trying to put it back!”  Lesson for the day: some actions can’t be reversed or undone.


About secondinaseriesofsix

My job and my family keep me inspired and laughing by turns. Here's a taste.

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