“Poop Sleeve Sweater” Story

Catchy title, right?  WARNING: If you are not an elemementary school teacher (maybe even a primary grade teacher), you might not want to read this while consuming food or after having recently consumed food.  If you can read this WHILE consuming food and at the same time as wiping a particularly nasty green, snotty nose that is not your own- you’re my kinda person.

This story is the request of one of my sweetest friends.  She is a middle school teacher, and therefore she is enamored by all of my first grade stories.  I am not sure she believes they are all for real, but she believes me enough that I am quite certain she will never, ever go into a first grade classroom voluntarily again.  (Keep in mind that first grade classrooms are my natural habitat.  I feel more at home there than anywhere else.)  The “Poop Sleeve Sweater” story is one she has heard more than one time and she still loves it.

This story took place when I held my favorite job title ever- Reading Recovery and push-in Title I reading teacher.  I have loved all of the positions I have held in education with the exception of one, and that one was one I only did in the summer, so I don’t really count it.  But the reading job was my most favorite of all.  I was able to do Reading Recovery, which is one of the best reading interventions available then and now, in my opinion.  I learned more about teaching reading while being trained in Reading Recovery than I learned in all of my other college courses (under-grad and post-grad) combined.  Then the rest of the day I pushed into first-grade classrooms and did Title I reading groups.  I loved having my one-on-one tutoring time and I loved being in the classrooms with first grade teachers and their students.  I learned so much from those teachers and I enjoyed being in their classrooms, even if it was for just 30-40 minutes at a time.

Unfortunately for the classroom teachers, the reading teachers in the building had to schedule all of this pushing in and pulling out.  And we were vying for times with special classes, speech times, lunch, and recess.  It was not pretty.  Invariably, some teachers ended up with times that were less than ideal.  Someone had to be right at 8:00 A.M. and someone had to be right at 2:30 P.M.  The “Poop Sleeve Sweater” story happened to take place in the classroom that had the unenviable 8:00 A.M. reading push-in time slot for that school year.  I happened to be the reading teacher who was stationed in the  classroom at 8:00 A.M. rather than having a Reading Recovery student.  It was fate.  The classroom teacher was a very nice, young teacher who was fairly fresh out of college.  It was not her first year, but she was still fresh.  To add to her morning fun, she also had first graders who had Reading Recovery at 8:00 A.M.  So not only was I stationed in her room first thing, but she also had to send a couple of her students out of her room as soon as they arrived.  She did a quick lunch count and sent them out the door with their teachers.  It was all very fast-paced.  Very rushed.  Very quick.  But most children, especially six year-olds, are very adaptable.  Within three weeks those students had it down pat!  They were down the hall with their reading teachers before most of the other students ever even made it to their desks.

Notice I said “most children.”  Enter into the story “Ralphie” (not his real name).  Ralphie was an old soul in a little boy’s body.  If you are an educator, you have had Ralphies. Ralphies are not fast-paced.  They do not rush.  They are not quick.  This teacher’s room was the last room at the end of a very, very long hall.  It was as far from the front door of the school as you could possibly get.  But that didn’t even matter, because Ralphie stopped by the cafeteria for breakfast every morning.  I am not certain how long it took Ralphie to make it from the front door to the cafeteria, but I can tell you that there were stops in between.  By the time Ralphie arrived for breakfast, he was always one of the last ones served.  Now Ralphie liked to savor his breakfast.  He wasn’t one to waste.  He ate every morsel and he enjoyed some polite table conversation with the cafeteria workers as they cleaned up around him.  When he finally finished up and made his way down the very long hallway, he was the only one not already in class.  Often, Ralphie would find stray objects lying about in the abandoned hallway.  Being a polite young man, he would pick up the discarded items and open every doorway and inquire within until he found owners for all of the items.  Eventually, he would arrive at his own clasroom door.  Waiting on him, Ralphie would  find a slightly agitated teacher and reading teacher.  Their agitation never seemed to faze Ralphie and he would plod over to his table area and begin to unpack.  Now I was always at least mid-way through my group by the time Ralphie made his first appearance in class.  But I always heard about the same conversation ensue.

Classroom Teacher: (trying to speak in a loud whisper, but agitated, so it was always a little high pitched) Ralphie!  You need to go with Mrs. B!  You have missed half of your time already!  Hurry!  Grab your reading bag and go!  You can unpack when you get back!

Ralphie: (totally unfazed, so speaking in his usual voice, which was actually quite loud) I just ate.  Now it’s time to poop.

Reading Teacher: (eyebrows raised quite high) Ralphie, get your bag.  We’ll stop by the bathroom on the way to my room.

I will say this about first graders.  They really only pay attention to themselves.  It can be annoying, but at times like this, it is a blessing.  The first time that Ralphie announced that he had to poop right after breakfast, in his disproportionately loud voice, I literally almost peed my pants I laughed so hard.  I pretended that I was coughing so that I didn’t set a bad example for the students.  (I was usually far worse than any student in the class when it came to laughing at inappropriate times.)  We all thought it was a one time thing.  Maybe he had chosen raisin bran that morning or something.  Nope.  Every day after he came down and put his stuff in the room, he announced that he “had to poop.”  Much to my regret, the teacher and the reading teacher did work with Ralphie and they developed a better plan where he would go straight to the cafeteria and eat quickly, then the reading teacher would take him to the bathroom and straight to her room.  My fun times ended for a while.

Then one day, Ralphie didn’t go to Reading Recovery.  I cannot remember why.  He might have graduated, or his teacher might have been absent.  Either way, he came down the hallway after breakfast and promptly announced that he had to poop.  I got all giggly, but I looked up when I noticed that Ralphie and the teacher were discussing something else.  Ralphie had a new cardigan.  It was off-white, or cream colored,  and had brown buttons down the front.  I thought it looked like what Ralphie on A Christmas Story wore. (That’s where I came up with his fictitious name.)  It was a little big, but cute, and he was obviously a big fan.  His teacher was suggesting that perhaps he should take the sweater off prior to going into the bathroom.  Nope.  He would not take the sweater off.  It was new.  And off he went for his morning constitutional.  He was gone for a really, really long time. So long that his teacher sent another student to check on him.

The other student came back, and Ralphie was trailing behind.  The first thing that I noticed upon Ralphie’s return was that one sleeve of his new cardigan was now about twice as long as the other sleeve, and it was dripping wet.

Ralphie: Mrs. T!  Mrs. T!  You have to help me!  Help me wash the poop off my sweater!  I got poop on the sleeve of my new sweater!  See all this brown poop?  I tried to wash the poop off with water, but the poop won’t come off my sleeve.  Help me wash the poop off!

I have lived a long life, but I have never, ever heard the word poop used that many times is such a quick procession in such a strangely loud voice.  Quite frankly, the only thing funnier than the string of poops was the look on his teacher’s face as she sat there with her students gathered around her reading table, calmly trying to teach them to read.  Shock doesn’t quite name the look.  College doesn’t prepare one for such instances.  I just wanted popcorn and 3-D glasses.

Teacher– (at this point she had walked over to the sink and removed a Wal-mart bag from under it and was handing it out to Ralphie) Ralphie, take off the sweater.  Put it in the bag.  Then go to the nurse and get another shirt to wear for the day.  (Quite reasonable, I thought.)

Ralphie– (holding the sleeve out, very close to the teacher) NOOOO!!! This is my new sweater!  I am going to wear it all day.  Just help me get the poop out.

Teacher– (I think she might have been gagging by this point.)  No.  Put it in the bag and go to the nurse.  Now.

Ralphie did eventually take the sweater off and go to the nurse.  He was a good boy, his bowels just had a very regular schedule.  We did see that sweater many times after that, and he was always much more careful with it in the bathroom.  As that first grade year went on, Ralphie learned to just take care of business without announcing it to the class.  Awww, they grow up so fast.

That’s the thing about first graders.  They end the year so differently than when they come in.  But unlike parents who get to enjoy the benefits of having taught these important life skills, teachers pass the children on to the next grade level.  In August, first grade teachers get a whole new class full of Ralphies.  And first grade teachers wouldn’t have it any other way!

 

 

2 thoughts on ““Poop Sleeve Sweater” Story”

  1. Tiny dog feels much empathy and connection with her long lost human brother in the land of ill timed poops and wearing her poops and not quite pooping in the right place. Additionally, I do not believe she is phased by it—proud even. And she would never wear a cardigan. Or clothes. She is basically a stripper.

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