“What the…? What… what are you doing? Are you rubbing your cheek on my knee? Please don’t touch Ms. Art Teacher.”
“What the…? What was that? Did you… ? It felt like… like something touched my hair. Did you just pet my hair? Please don’t pet Ms. Art Teacher’s hair.”
“What the…? What are you…? Why are you…? Are you trying to climb onto my lap? You’re in third grade! Please don’t sit on Ms. Art Teacher.”
“What the…? Why the…? Do you need something? Please don’t hit Ms. Art Teacher there.”
“Please don’t touch Ms. Art Teacher’s belly.”
“Please get your fingers out of Ms. Art Teacher’s hair.”
“Please stop pulling on Ms. Art Teacher’s shirt.”
“Please step away from Ms. Art Teacher.”
“Ms. Art Teacher needs some space.”
“Give Ms. Art Teacher some elbow room.”
“Elbow room, folks, GIVE MS. ART TEACHER SOME FREAKIN’ ELBOW ROOM!”
“Oh. You need a hug? Well, that’s okay then. Ms. Art Teacher loves hugs.”
5 thoughts on “Don’t Touch the Art Teacher”
My dilemma – the 5th grade special needs boy who is taller and probably 50 pound heavier than me, who wants to hug me all the time. And he doesn't smell too good. But he's the first to compliment my jewelry.
Anyhow, the real reason for this comment is in response to a comment you left on my blog. Where in the Adirondacks did you grow up and teach? Maybe I'm nosy, but I can't help but wonder.
Love your blog…linked from there's a dragon in my art room. My think is being poked to get my attention. There's a family in my school of 3 boys and every one of them pokes me. I can't imagine what their home life must be like going around poking each other all day!
Thank you for making me laugh today! It was a long, rough day in my art room today. I said every one of those things today…Man, does the art teacher need some freakin' elbow room!
Ha! Loved the “elbow room” comment. Whenever I have my students gather round the table for my demos, I pump my arms back and forth, telling them that I need my “elbow room” and they back away from me. Otherwise, they are all crowded right up around me so tight, I can't move.
When I was teaching elementary art-on-a-cart, I would arrive into a classroom and within seconds find myself backed up against the chalkboard under the pressure of excited students, wanting to hug, pull on my leg, yell hello, and hand me a drawing they made for me. Although I was glad they were happy to see me, it led to many discussions about calmer greetings and personal space, and me demonstrating an invisible “personal space bubble” that surrounds each of us by holding hands on hips, elbows jutting out and spinning in a circle. Sometimes I wish my high schools students now would be as excited to see me as those elementary students were then…