During the first two weeks of preschool we really emphasize the importance of proper hand washing.
We read the book Those Mean Nasty Dirty Downright Disgusting but…Invisible Germs by Judith Anne Rice. This is a wonderful book with great illustrations on what an earache germ, a headache germ, a sore throat germ, a fever germ and the most downright disgustingest germ of all, the throw up germ, just might look like. Rosa, the smart little girl in the book, knows how to get rid of those terrible germs and she sends them whirling, twirling down the drain. We read this book over and over again.
We practice coughing and sneezing into our elbow. We show how germs spread by using glitter and shaking hands. We talk about the proper steps for hand washing. You know the drill… wet, soap, scrub (sing a little song), rinse and dry. We are even growing germy bread for a science experiment.
What is germy bread? It’s a slice of bread (preferably one that doesn’t have preservatives) which everyone in the class touches with their dirty, moist little hands. Gross, right? Wait a week, and then you can be completely downright disgusted by those not-so invisible germs.
We should have those germs well under control, right?
Except that I’m the one who now has the sore throat germ, the headache germ, and the earache germ.
Irony, preschool style.
On Monday, I will not be surprised if I get asked by a student if I forgot to wash my hands.
… Who sneeze into their elbows. Their teachers will love them forever.
I have definitive evidence as to why sneezes need to be covered.
Last week Wednesday I was the recipient of a full blown uncovered sneeze by a child with an obvious cold. Gross, ewwww, blech… **shudder**
This child also sneezed on about half of the children in the classroom periodically during our class time together.
Student: “Sneezy sneezed on me!”
Teacher: “I know, I’m sorry.” What else could I say?
No matter how many times I asked “Sneezy” to sneeze into his/her elbow, the sneezes continued to blow through our classroom. This child would look right at me after the sneezes and just shrug. Of course, these weren’t little sneezes; these were full force, spit flying, snot-bearing sneezes, and not a single one was covered. Sneezy just did not seem to get it.
Guess who now has a cold?
Several of Sneezy’s classmates have the cold now too.
Please cover your sneeze. Please.
P. S. My sister is having a contest! Stop on over and check it out.
That I was right. Here is a link which verifies that being a teacher is the number one “Germiest Job in America.”
I do work in a Petri Dish. Unfortunately, I really didn’t need any proof.
Especially after I got sneezed on today. Not once, but twice. Ewww…
Why do I have this sudden urge to go wash my hands?
My playdough eater in my afternoon class.
On Monday this student ate playdough, off the floor, again, for the bazillionth time. **sigh** And I said, again, for the bazillionth and a half time,”don’t eat the playdough off the floor, it can make you sick.” This student had the nerve to continue to eat the playdough while I was talking to her. AAAARGH! Guess who wasn’t at school today? Guess who has the latest petri dish virus that is making the rounds in our classroom? Guess who will probably eat the playdough off the floor when he/she returns to school?
I so want to say “I told you so.” However, I won’t. At least not out loud.
In other news:
I have recovered from the lastest creepy crud. Thank goodness. Now my poor husband has it. I feel bad for him. It’s miserable, to say the least.
Oh, and no, I did not eat the playdough.
Just consider this part two of yesterday’s blog.
I think it was 4 years ago I had a student who liked to wipe her runny nose on just about anything, and it started to include the teachers’ shirts. At first we didn’t realize what she was doing, but we caught on very quickly. Then the fateful day came when she wiped her green gooey nose on the back of my sweater. UGH! Thanks kiddo…
And my response was “please don’t wipe your nose on my clothes.” (I actually refrained from using the favored preschool term “boogers” and I am amazed.) What did my runny-nose munchkin sized student do? She giggled, saw it as a game and repeatedly tried to use me as her personal giant sized tissue for the rest of the day. How many times is a person expected to say “use a kleenex” in one day?
I really do work in a petri dish, and this petri dish has live organisms that have sticky hands, fast feet, and runny noses. I don’t stand a chance, do I?