An Ongoing Streak... Ended?

8650. What does this represent? Well, a few things.

For starters, it represents the number of days I've been alive for. But that's petty compared to what it actually stands for: The number of days I've survived on this earth without having to wipe anybodies butt but my own.

I have lots of pride in this. Although Dawna's streak was put to a screeching halt in the dying days of last week, I have somehow managed to teach kindergarden students for 7+ months and escape the demon that exists in wiping their butts.

Of course, things had to get a little more difficult. I've recently gotten smaller, younger kids who are incapable of lowering their pants when they have to pee (had to do this for them... so that streak is gone) so one can only imagine how much more incapable they are of wiping their butts post-poo.

I used to wake up each and everyday with a smile on my face -- knowing that my streak was safe and alive. However, something has changed. I don't sleep as well. I have nightmares. Although I can't see it, I know that there exists a giant brown cloud hovering over me... watching me... as if to say, "Hey, You're Next!" I've done fairly well with avoiding the confrontation but at the same time, I'm beginning to realize that the inevitable is inching closer... and closer... and closer.

Tick...
Tock...
Tick...
Tock...

Until today. There I am, in the first half of my kindergarden class when one of the little boys looks up at me and mutters something in Korean. At the time, I was holding up a green crayon and hoping for him to say "Green." He doesn't say green. He says something in Korean... which I don't understand... and assuming he had incorrectly answered my question of "What color is this crayon," I just respond with.. "No, you're wrong." After a few minutes, he starts to squirm, hold his stomach... and keeps saying the same word. I'm thinking "No, seriously... kid... this is green... no need to get so upset" until I realize something awful. He's not talking about colors here. He's the one. He's the one that's going to destroy my streak. 8650 hangs in the balance of a three year old.

So we rush to the washroom and I help him take his pants off... and he hops onto the toilet. I'm panicking and thinking that I haven't really had the chance to give my streak the proper farewell it deserved. How could it end this way... with no warning? So as I'm sitting there waiting for him to finish, I realize that I have a classroom full of little kids that need tending to. So I leave Tony in the stall, head back to class only to see Nicky, another boy, mutter the same word. Oh god. He needs to poo as well. I guess if I'm going to go down... I'm REALLY going to go down. How could this be? I'm a good person... I've done good things in my life. The least I deserve is preparation... or a warning of some sorts to let me know that this golden streak is going brown.

So I take Nicky to the washroom, help him take his pants off... and he sits on the toilet. Him and Tony... partners in crime. Two three year olds who must work together to take me down. I'm panicking... freaking out... don't know what to do. "It's over" I think and sulk. I head to the hallway, crouch up against the wall with my head in my lap and sadly accept the inevitable: I will wipe two bums and this streak is over. I'll have to start another one.

So much work. All down the toilet... literally. I guess I'm alone here.

... until I look up and see the Korean kindergarden teacher. And although she can't speak English... and I can't speak Korean... we both know one thing. She's my savior... she's not only here to protect my fingers... but she's here to protect my streak.

And so I parade back to my kindergarden class, smile as wide as the pacific... and I know that my streak is safe for another day.

8651, here I come.

Amen.

- Gilad