Who Wouldn't Want the Same Teacher Their Sister Had?

I have told this story to a number of folks over time and every time I do I can't help but think two things.
1. I am a complete idiot. (Though not just because of the events in this story.  I have always been an idiot.  Some say it is why they are drawn to me.)
2. It is pretty darn funny all these years later.

The very first time I taught Kindergarten was in the late 90's.  The first time you do anything in education is always a gamble.  Teaching Kindergarten for the first time was no different.

I reviewed my class roster that August and was thrilled to see that I was to have Georgia, the sibling of a child I had taught the year before in Grade One.  This was fantastic.  As a teacher you secretly like having siblings of families that you had a connection with.  Besides, what child wouldn't want the same teacher that their big sister had?  Well, I tell you who didn't....... Georgia

 I stood in the classroom as the school opened for the first day.  There were familiar faces of students from years gone by when I taught Grade One.  They were sailing by on their way to Grade Two, Three and beyond as I stood in my new Kindergarten classroom.  The school was packed with moms and dads walking their most prized possession(s) to their new year of academic achievement. 

Then I heard it.  It grew louder at an alarming clip. You know the sound; A child wailing without control. As it grew louder I kept thinking, "I wonder who is so devastated on the first day of school."  The waling grew to a full-on mega phone blast.  Then it rounded the corner and was at my doorstep.  There she was.  Georgia.  A five year old with such dissatisfaction that school had somehow robbed her of the freedom of being four and free to stay home with her mum all day.

She was in her momma's arms and glued to her side.  Her hands were gripped around momma's neck like she were about to fall off of the Titanic.  We are talking iron-clad strength here.

The usual chatting and attempting to "talk her down" was of no use.  I could have been moving a teaspoon of sugar across the state one grain at a time and had more success than I was every to have getting her to release her mother from her death grip and come join the "fun" in Kindergarten.  So, I reached for her, with her mum's permission and began the gentle tug and pull that was supposed to release her grip from her mum.  Nope.  As I pulled harder and momma pushed harder two things happened...

1. Momma began to cry.  Now one thing I am sure of is that when a momma cries and her youngest born is already sobbing in her arms there is nothin' good that can come from it.  True to form the child amped up her volume and rate.
2. A curtain of sweat began to form on my forehead.

The pulling and pushing gave way to a teetering momma. With one last pull momma took a tumble to the ground with child and teacher right behind.

How pleasant must it have been for the two of them to have me land on top of them in the doorway on a 90+ degree day in the Midwest where the humidity is no friend and public schools have no air conditioning?

"Graceful" has never been an adjective to describe me, my demeanor or how I go about life.  Why would this day have been any different?