As I whipped things into shape in the classroom preparing for the arrival of the kids I heard sobbing that was slightly alarming. As a teacher in an elementary school I have bore witness to hundreds of kids crying for some reason or another. So, I am a good judge of what type of crying merits attention and what type of crying is simply a release of frustration. This was a full on, "Get me the hell out of here" kind of a cry.
The cry grew louder, but never dissipated. When you hear one of our youth crying, as a teacher you wait for the wailing to begin to dissipate as the child makes his or her way to their respective classroom. This crying just lingered near my room. This could only mean one thing. The crying five year old was assigned to my tutelage. This was true. My colleague escorted this one in and motioned for me to come to the door. She said, "This is Morgan."
"Hi Morgan!" is what I spat out in my most friendly you are going to love Kindergarten voice, even though I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he was not interested in hanging out in Kindergarten any longer than two seconds.
My colleague said to me, "I found him getting off the bus, unsure of where to go. When I asked him who his teacher was he said, (in a crying/yelling type of voice).............. "I HAVE THE MAN TEACHER!"
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