Letters

Dear brilliant scientist who discovered the planets in our solar system and therefore got to name them,
You have clearly spent very little time in a 5th grade science class, otherwise it would never have crossed your mind to name a planet Uranus. Seriously. Uranus? Plenty of Roman gods and goddesses out there in ancient lore and you choose Uranus. You can't even try putting emphasis on a different syllable, then it just sounds very close to urine. However, I did have a brief epiphany while reading about this rather unfortunately-named planet with my class of 20 11-year-olds. The entire planet is made mostly of methane gas (true scientists please do not leave me angry comments about how unfounded my statements are, it's 5th grade), which, if I am not mistaken, smells rather rank to the human olfactory nerve. So basically, Uranus smells like... a butt. I got about halfway through this thought process verbally before I realized I should not be sharing this with my students. Oh well.


Dear recess duty,
I despise you. It's too hot. It's too cold. The wind blows my hair so many different directions that by the time I get inside my fingers get stuck in my hair as I try to untangle. It's dusty. It's too bright. The kids wwaaaayyyy down there are trying to get passing cars to honk. Is that ok? Does it merit a hike all the way down there, therefore leaving the rest of the playground unwatched? Those kids over there are going the wrong way up the slide. By the time I get over there they will be gone. Can't they just enjoy gravity? Why fight it? Those kids over there are climbing the tetherball pole because it has wrapped itself around the chain way up at the top of the pole and it is now stuck. I walk over to assist but they have unwound it by the time I get there. Those kids are playing tackle basketball. Unlike everyone else, they are much closer to my post so they get a whistle and a solemn promise that they are about to lose basketball privileges. Those boys over there would be causing much less trouble if they had a football to play with. Where is that dang football? I could let them go inside and grab the one the kid in my class illegally brings to school for such a time as this, but that would be breaking the no-balls-from-home rule. I said balls. Hehe. Oooo, that kid just bit it hard. Tears? Blood? Nope. Good job. Walk it off. Those two kids just collided at a full sprint. This is why we don't play tag in the wood chip area. And my favorite: "Jimmy is trying to get us out on purpose in 4-square". Pause... and? Apparently that's against the rules. "Tommy called me a bad name". Well, were you acting like that bad word? Did you throw rocks at him first or tell him he had no eyebrows? Don't laugh, it happens frequently. Which leads to the weekly playground prayer: "Dear God, LET THE BELL RING!"


Dear fellow dance class members,
Can you move your arms that fast? I think that my long limbs put me at a disadvantage. I think that I can scientifically prove that it takes longer for my long arms to wave back and forth than it does for people with shorter arms. No offense. Oh, by the way, my digestional tract is unhappy this evening so try not to stand downwind, especially during the bouncy numbers.