It's whole school singing time, the not-to-be-missed weekly singalong special that all the children love. Or so we tell them, anyway.
We start off with the rainbow song.
'Take a little bit of red.......and a little bit of orange. Add a bit of yellow...and a bit of green,' I sing, feeling grateful for the growing short-term memory problems that should ensure I remember none of this within an hour or so.
As we romp in a wholesome fashion through the colour palette, I notice that the reception child nearest the piano is obeying the song instructions all too literally. She turns first scarlet in the face and then, seconds later, sickly green.
As we enter the blue, violet and indigo phase I shout, 'Really big voices, children,' and she rises magnificently to the occasion. Waves of vomit cascade out of her mouth, drenching her and her companions, and start lapping over the lino and towards my feet.
In less time than it takes to say, 'Cripes, have you got the pot of gold down there, too?' I've leapt up from my seat and am carrying on with the song from the safety of the corridor outside while other teachers who, unlike me, seem to have suppressed their gag reflect (you probably get it surgically removed as part of today's training course) are assisting her with kind, compassionate looks and a yard-high pile of paper towels.
The rest of the children, like me, shrink away from what's fast becoming a small lake and finish the song huddled together at the furthest side of the hall.
'What about early playtime?' suggests Mary.
'Only if you're sure,' I say. 'Alternatively, I'm sure there are a couple of songs I could theme to the occasion. What about 'Way, hay and up she rises?' or 'Miss Molly had a dolly who was sick, sick, sick.'
While the hall is swabbed with sawdust, disinfectant and, for all I know, lashings of green jelly for the purposes of coordination, I escape to the staffroom.
There, Mary is eyeing a stack of milk cartons. There are eight. All are unopened and all have an expiry date of several days ago.
'Should I risk it?' she asks, possibly rhetorically.
'Why not?' I say. 'Give me a few minutes while I run off a copy of 'The Rainbow song' for you and fill a bucket with sawdust and we all could keep ourselves happily occupied for hours.'
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4 comments:
Now you've got me pondering illness-related children's songs to go with your "way, hay and up she rises" and "Miss Molly had a dolly".
Of course there's "Ring-a-ring o' roses", which is about the plague, if you're wanting to get really pandemic about it.
Yuk! The joys of being a teacher I suppose. Bit like being a parent I guess. That bit I would definitely have passed onto someone else.
CJ xx
Oh joy - ugh!
I hate sick on anybody else. I would be in the corridor too.
And I'm a nurse...
Iota: I'd always thought that plague thing was true but there was some debate on Radio 4 about it.....apparently open to question. Oh, my God. Sorry. Having nerdy moment there. Gotta stop.
CJ: I guess you're right. I've never been a natural with sick, not even with my own. But this.....oh, God, the horror.
Cath: Everyone should be allowed a corridor moment.
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