- The nationwide poverty rate is about 14%.
- California's adjusted poverty rate is about 23%.
- The poverty rate in my school district is 52%.
25.1.16
Calm. Down.
I think the vast majority of us on this planet – or perhaps
just those with first world “problems” – need to take a chill pill. Most of the
time, we are not in a life or death emergency, and even if we are, freaking out
about it won’t do anyone any good. I may not be saving the world as a school
nurse, but the least I can do is calm people down.
When a student came into the office sobbing after lunch, and
when his friends said he “collapsed” in the cafeteria saying his head hurt, I
was not surprised when the secretary came to get me. The other aide in the
office whose position I have not figured out (a secretary for the secretary, it
appears), reported the student’s temperature as 101.7, while the secretary
anxiously exclaimed, “They said he didn’t hit his head, I don’t know what
happened!” It took about 1 minute for me to interview the kiddo and discover
that, besides his fever, he hadn’t eaten since the day before. Hmm. I don’t
think it takes a rocket scientist, or even a school nurse, to figure out why
his head was hurting. Still, I had to spell out to the secretary, who watched
over my shoulder as I assessed the student, “He needs to go home. He’s sick.” As
in, close your gaping mouth, this is not an emergency, let’s move on with our
day, he’ll be fine.
I know some of her worry comes from the lovely ladies and
gentleman at the district office following a threatened, or perhaps real,
lawsuit related to a first aid incident at the school earlier this year. (My
own perspective on that: someone’s wanting money and the school is not at
fault.) But seriously, folks. It’s a fever. Kid hasn’t eaten. He has a
headache. Calm down.
I am often amazed that I am paid to dispense common sense.
21.1.16
Life with a Toddler
Because my life doesn't revolve around work anymore...We were getting ready for the library one afternoon, and I explained to my daughter she would need to put some pants on so we could go. I helped put her pants on after snack, at which point the tantrum erupted. “NO PANTS!” She dissolved into tears, and as I tried to explain why she needed the pants, she flung herself on the ground in a screaming mess. I tried without success to comfort her, and, feeling my own temper rise, I decided to take a break from it all in another room. She followed me, after she took off her pants in the other room, still crying, “NO PANTS.” Then, as suddenly as a light turns on or off, she asked for “cuddles.” So, we cuddled, and I again explained that to go to the library, she needed to be wearing pants. I asked if she wanted to wear a different pair of pants and heard, “Yes. Blue!” She happily put on the blue pants, and off we went to the library.
At the library we read a book about a duck. She seemed interested, and I told her we could take it home, but she said, “no.” Several times over the course of the library visit she picked up the duck book again, but every time I offered to check it out, she said “no.” We went home, opened the door, and I hadn’t even set my keys down before she asked, “duck?” She broke down in tears when I said the duck book was still at the library.
Ahhhh…toddlers.
At the library we read a book about a duck. She seemed interested, and I told her we could take it home, but she said, “no.” Several times over the course of the library visit she picked up the duck book again, but every time I offered to check it out, she said “no.” We went home, opened the door, and I hadn’t even set my keys down before she asked, “duck?” She broke down in tears when I said the duck book was still at the library.
Ahhhh…toddlers.