Some of this has to do for my longing to take on only creative endeavors. But, then I read that as soon as you start to get paid for something, you enjoy it less. And besides, my arts and crafts is really just dabbling. I have the courage to dabble, but likely not the courage to forge some career out of it, let alone, have it be a profitable one. Could I sell dabblings? Kindhearted family friends might submit a Venmo payment. How many painted gourd birdhouses do you need in your yard?
School nurses- maybe one of the most disrespected positions on the planet? I could argue on the pro side of this, but I know I'm being overly dramatic. At least take a moment to read some of my finest moments
One day, I had to call a parent to tell them their student had lice. Not just a little bit o lice, but a lot. The voice at the other end was furious. Furious. I suppose many folks think that lice is something only dirty people get. It is not. In any case, this parent was coming to the school to have a word. This was before the days of School Resource Officers or any sort of safety to prevent staff from getting their asses kicked. My security was my baseball bat behind my desk (It makes me wonder how many teachers are packin' heat). The woman at the other end of the line made her way into the clinic along with her male partner. As she hollered at me, I showed her the lice I had saved in a piece of tape so that I could show her the proof and educate her. Didn't matter. She lunged at me. Fortunately, her seemingly muscle-less partner managed to hold her back. At this point, my hand was on my bat. I didn't end up swinging for the fences, but I did manage to boot them. The aftermath of that? Nothing.
How about the time that I asked a dad if he needed some help in administering medications to his student in the morning? My idea being I could give the medication in school as opposed to his giving at home (and had I been grading dad, I would've given him a big fat F because he rarely gave his kid this medication....and it was OBVIOUS). Side note- the school custodian and I were friends (nurses are friends with custodians - diarrhea and vomit bond us) and he told me if I ever had a "scary parent situation", to call him on the walkie talkie, and he would help me. Sure enough- Mr. I Don't Give My Kid His Medication was yelling into the phone, "I'M COMING TO THE SCHOOL RIGHT NOW TO DEAL WITH YOU!". Guess who showed up at the clinic door? A 6 foot something inch man blocking the door and laughing a smug asshole laugh. "Custodian to the clinic, please" and my guardian angel showed up. Things de-escalated and that was the end of that. Noted. Keep that bat handy and a custodian by your side.
I won't get into Covid. It was a nightmare and telling people they had to keep their kids out of school for 2 weeks was absolute hell. Additionally, walking around with a yardstick to measure distances between people- I might as well have worn a black cloak and carried a scythe. We did have a teacher pass away and to this day, I take the blame for not physically grabbing her and escorting her out the door during Covid days. We had conversations about her several significant health issues and I reiterated my concern, but she died alone in the hospital.
A lot of complaining at the moment- I need to get this out of my system. I will profess my love of the children. Unfortunately, I can't get a lot of them what they need- things that are needed in the home/from people in their home. I can give hugs, words of reassurance, I can even scold them when they need it. I suppose love is what I'm dealing out, but even I'm tired and I just don't think it's getting better. I've learned not to ask kids, "Are you looking forward to your holiday break?" because a lot of them are not. Or, "Did you play outside this weekend?" or "Tell me about your mom and dad?". I know better.
The other day I had a teacher send me a student. The student told he that he wasn't feeling well (I had already seen the student before- he has some test anxiety and there was testing that week) and so his teacher told him he didn't need to go to music class. Instead, the teacher insisted that he come to the clinic so she (the teacher) could go to WalMart. My note to the teacher was placed gently in the student's hand, "Please give this to your teacher." The note said: NO.
Yesterday, a student "accidentally" tied his hands together with a shoe string. He made it as far as the clinic door and I pointed to a farway land behind this student. NO.
My joys - where are they then? It is taking me a moment to think of them because I'm in a school nurse rut. Well, always the kids and when I can help them in a significant way (maybe small, but significant). Screenings- when I can help a kid hear or see better- that's pretty great. Connecting families to resources will get me high as a kite.
The joys will always be there and so will my NO notes.
