I Have Some Ideas

Last week, when I knocked my back out (actually, my back knocked itself out), the kids in my class got a little nervous. Some of them could see the pain in my face and just kept staring at me. I told them that I was okay, but that my back was hurting me. One of the girls said to another, "Oh, she's just having back spasms. That happens to my grandmother all the time."

I laid down on the rug and pulled my knees up, trying to stretch out my back. Another girl leaned over me and asked, "Do you want me to walk on your back? I do that for my dad a lot." Um . . . no thanks. Yet another delightful young person squatted down next to me and said, "It's so funny that you can even do that because you're . . . " I'm what? ". . . an adult." (Nice save.)

I curled up in a ball on the floor while many of the kids stood around me in disbelief (and delight) and several other kids ran amok. When I was brave enough to attempt a standing position again, I shuffled to my desk chair and slowly sat myself down. Ouch.

One of my co-workers, the one who loves to be my at-school mother, came into the classroom and saw that I was in distress. She took charge of my life, told the principal that I had to leave, arranged a substitute, and sent me on my way.

While I was out, the kids wrote letters to me offering suggestions of how I could make my back feel better. Some even included illustrations. Let's take a look. Shall we?

Here's a fine example of my excellent spelling instruction:

And that's me laying on the rug. I need to do a better job of rubbing in my blush. Oh wait, I don't wear blush.

Here's another letter by a student who had a little more to say. She drew a picture, too (below her letter). I think she and the first girl worked together. Oh - and I'd better keep an eye on her. She might be plotting a takeover.

This student thinks I should get off the floor and do some exercises.

I'm not sure what culups are, but I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to do any in the near future.


This next wiseguy must have been hanging around with my father. My dad used to tell me to do things like this when I was little. Give yourself a new pain to take your mind off the old one. Great plan.


This next illustration is perhaps the most alarming in the pile. This picture shows me on the floor with my son on my back. Nothing more needs to be said. (Except that when I showed my boy, he said, "What am I? A monkey?")


This last letter and illustration is my favorite. I know I shouldn't pick a favorite, but this child knows how to win me over. Look at #2.

Number 3 isn't bad either.

I feel better now.