"The Poo Story"

Hello,

                My name is Wintermute and this is Dumbr, stories of my time spent teaching English as a second language in South Korea. Since I found few questions in the comments I figured today I will tell a tale. Friends and associates have asked me to share my most horrific experience teaching in the classroom, so today I will do just that, if you are eating I recommend you to stop.

                A little back story, this particular class was comprised of 12 students at the age of 6; these 12 students were placed at tables situated to form a circle. I was at the center of this circle, I don’t remember the exact date but it was hot and humid, much what you would expect from living on a peninsula in the mid summer. I was going around the circle asking questions getting the students to talk and having them read from a book. While one student was talking I happened to smell something a little odd, I joking asked if any of them had crapped their pants hoping it would stay just a joke. But as soon as I finish I hear from behind a pathetic whimper that said “…teacher…”

                I turn slowly to see the child, his head down, legs crossed, back arched. I asked what’s wrong. I noticed his hands were missing, I followed his arms down to find their placement had been inside the back of his pants. He looks up at me, with dreary watery eyes, pulls out his hands and reveals what I had suspected from the start. In tears this boy held up his poo as if presenting Simba on Pride Rock, but this was no ordinary poo. The poo had a greenish hue, it was shapeless, somewhat droopy, and it was a steamy mix of rice and oatmeal. The poo basked in the glow of the sunlight beaming in as if intentionally trying to make matters worse.

Now remember I said I had a circle of students around me, well my first instinct was to vomit violently while spinning in a circle all around me spewing my lunch out at them. Thankfully however I withheld the urge. I told the boy to hurry to the bathroom; moments later I realized he would have to be the one to open the door. So I rushed head first doing barrel rolls, leaping frogging desk and child alike, and outstretched my hand to reach the handle, success. The boy ran into the girls’ bathroom due to his eyes being covered in tears I’m sure, and I went to go get a teacher assistant. None of whom can speak English, so in the form of charades I demonstrated, “student…poo…everywere…please clean!”. And there was a lot to clean, the poor boy had it all over his chair and dripped down the hall into the bathroom. It took about an hour to clean up and finally the boy returned to class, the managers instructed me to make him feel better by giving him a hug, I took one for the team and hugged him.

 I learned a bit of a lesson that day and now I only teach Middle school and High school.

Your Teacher,

Wintermute