Gobsmacked

Today, I went to school to class-sit while the teachers all enjoyed an appreciation luncheon prepared by the PTSA. It was an hour and a half. No biggie. Right?

Holy Insanity Batman.

I honestly don't know what they pay fourth grade elementary school teachers these days, but whatever it is...it isn't nearly enough.

I's absolutely LUDICROUS that actresses and athletes and models are being paid millions of dollars, but those who teach our nation's youth make next to nothing. It's shameful, really.

Teaching is incredibly demanding work. I put it right up there with neurosurgery, astrophyics and stripmining. Seriously. I was there an hour and a half and I need a vacation.

But that's really beside the point.

What I really want to tell you about is the apology I got from the little girl that I wrote about in the "Religious Conundrum" post from a few days ago.

Now, what I didn't say in that post was that she is really a very nice little girl. She has a very big personality. She is effusive and energetic and outgoing and really just larger than life.

She has a flair for the dramatic and I always tease her that she should be in drama class with Diminutive One because she has a way of taking center stage no matter where she is or who else is in the room.

She is not particularly pretty, but she always manages to upstage her more attractive peers. Strangely, they don't seem to resent her for it, maybe because she is just difficult to dislike.

And she seems to genuinely like Diminutive One. The desks are situated in groups, and theirs are together. She often asks him to draw pictures for her and she always takes up for him when there is a dispute or conflict.

So this behavior that she displayed the other day was really out of character for her. It was mean, and she is not a mean spirited child.

Anyway...most of my time was spent trying to keep the chaos at a minimum. I didn't really spend much time interacting with any one child in a manner that could be considered meaningful.

I was more like a drill sergeant in a room full of cadets, especially with the boys, who thought, mistakenly, that they could run rough shod over me. HA. Little did they know I am a battle weary veteran of the testosterone wars. They found out soon enough, the little....darlings.

At one point I saw Diminutive One smirking as I meted out justice to a pair who were being particularly problematic. He knows. But he enjoyed watching the others find out.

But I digress. Imagine that.

So anyway. During the fracas, I suddenly found a pair of slender arms that were encased in something pink and bedazzled wrapped around my waist. I felt a thin, soft cheek pressed against my back. Something was mumbled against my spine.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"It's me, DramaQueen."

"Well hello DramaQueen. What did you say?"

I pulled her around in front of me, and saw that she was crying just a little bit.

"I said, I'm sorry I was mean to Diminutive One."

"Oh. Did you tell him that?"

She nodded.

"I don't really think he's bad. I think he's nice."

"I'm very glad to hear that. He thinks you're nice too."

"But I didn't act nice."

"That's true. But nobody can be nice all the time, right?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you for saying you're sorry. I know it made him feel a lot better."

She sniffled.

"Mrs. Antagonist? My Mom says we can pray for you and Diminutive One, even if you don't believe in God. Would that be okay?"

"Yes, that would be fine. In fact, I think that's very thoughtful of you."

Then she hugged me again, and scampered off.

I stood there, completely gobsmacked. I have no idea what, if anything was said to DramaQueen or by whom. After my email to the teacher, nothing further was said to me other than a brief assurance that the matter would be looked into and taken care of.

I did find out that DramaQueen's mother is a half day teacher at the school, and later that day, I met her when she popped into the classroom to give me money for the teacher's gift from the class. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought she had some difficulty looking me in the eye, though she was friendly enough.

Perhaps nothing was said. Perhaps it was the child's own conscience that did the talking. Even if that was the case, I'm satisfied.

I think everyone learned something, maybe not least of all, the adults involved.

One can hope.