“I cannot go to school today,”
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
“I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is we, my throat is dry,
I’m going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox
And there’s one more—that’s seventeen,
And don’t you think my face looks green
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue—
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I’m sure that my left leg is broke—
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button’s caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,
My ‘pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is—what?
What’s that? What’s that you say?
You say today is…Saturday?
G’bye, I’m going out to play!”
--Shel Silverstein
I am feeling worse than ever. And unlike the ailments of Peggy Ann McKay, mine…well, persist. And thinking that I’ll be attempting to sing to unappreciative three-year-olds in 15 hours does not make me feel better at all. I thought I might be better because I didn’t wake up drenched in sweat last night, like I have all week, but then I got up and realized that now my nose is running and my ears hurt. I must have bird flu.
In my attempts to be lighthearted in my last entry, I forgot to mention one thing that really got me down this week. I came to school on Thursday to find that not only was all the candy underneath my desk gone (except a few wrappers the sticky-fingered clever thief thoughtfully left behind), but he or she had also climbed up to the top of my cabinet, aided by a chair left undisturbed at the crime scene, and taken roughly fifty of the suckers I’d been saving to give as prizes. I was unduly upset. I’m sure it has something to do with my sickness—I mean, it’s just candy, and I’m divided on the issue of giving these brats any sugar, anyway—but I truly felt violated. Sure, it was probably just one or maybe two students, probably the mentally disabled ones (and I think my co-teacher knows exactly who the culprit is, but will not tell me), but this feels like a manifestation of the respect issue that’s been troubling me so lately. Why am I working in an atmosphere where I have to lock my things away when I leave them for an instant? I want to have a relationship built on trust with my students, and now I feel I cannot trust them. This pains me.