Little J is a student in our Communications class. And he is a cute, chunky little red-head with a face full of freckles and a very slow articulation process. He understands and can maintain a conversation, it just takes a painfully long time for him to get his words out.
Today, during our daily physical activity of walking around the field, I fell into step with Little J. It was a colourful conversation that is noteworthy (especially because I’ve been receiving pressure to blog about SOMETHING despite my lack of interesting anecdotes).
So I noticed he was hugging himself in his little gray t-shirt (temperatures had to be nearly zero Celsius). So I said, “Little J, where’s your jacket?”
Long pause (this is standard with Little J) and then he said, “I came…I came…to school like this.”
And I said, “Didn’t your parents tell you to put on a jacket this morning?”
And he said, “When I go to school my dad is already not there…. And my stepmom is in her room.”
And I said, “Who makes you breakfast?”
And he said, “I DO!”
And I said, “What do you eat?”
And he said, “TOAST!”
And I said, “Who makes your lunch?”
And Little J said, “My dad.”
I said, “I hope you tell him thank you lots.”
And he said, “I tell him I love him lots.” At this point he is losing some drool down his chin and it is wetting his t-shirt. He has also turtled his arms into his shirt to keep warm. I half wonder if he is playing with his nipples.
I said, “Do you know where your jacket is at home?”
He said, “I know where more than one jacket is at home.”
So I said, “Can you turn on the tv and find the weather?”
And he said, “Channel 24”
I said, “Yeah. Breakfast television is good for weather.”
And Little J said, “I watch BT every morning.”
I said, “Tell you what. If the forecast says it’s going to be less than 15, put on a jacket.”
Customary pause. “If it’s 15 or less…put on a jacket.”
“That’s right, Little J.”
“If it’s 15 or less…put on a jacket,” he repeated to himself.
Then he muttered, “I’m a dang fool for not putting on a jacket.”
“Um….I’d say you just made a mistake, kiddo.”
“Dang fool,” he repeated.
We then had a conversation about how my name (Mme Peron) is similar to the principal’s name (Mrs. Perrin) and that strangely enough, we’re not related. He asked what the announcement I’d put on this morning was about. I explained that the Santa Shuffle was a race I was hoping to encourage kids to join in. He said he’d thought it was a dance because shuffle means to dance.
I asked what he would be doing this weekend and he said it was his cousin’s birthday and then he got a funny look on his face, veered to the right a few feet and threw up a little bit on the grass. When he returned to my side he declared that he would be alright, he just sometimes gets a funny feeling then throws up a little bit, but “I’ll survive” he explained.
Little coatless J with spit on his t-shirt. Today he learned when to put on a jacket. I’d say that doesn’t make him a fool at all.