Y'all Suckas!

I have never seen eyes quite as wild.



Seriously.

The large, eager, eyes that revealed this overly-stimulated child had forgotten to take his medication quickly made the short list of things I hope to never see in my classroom. Right up there with various bodily fluids, violence, inappropriate words/pictures that lead to phone calls, and (of course) Yankees gear.

About 5 minutes into reading groups, I sensed something was wrong. (It's amazing how intuitive you become with the students in your class.) I pulled him aside. "What's up?" I asked. He stared at the floor. He rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling. He bounced on his toes. "I forgot," he said, stretching the word forgot out as long as he could. "Forgot what exactly?" I already knew the answer. "They're on the counter," he looked sadly into my eyes. "I grabbed my backpack and forgot them." I prayed for grace (more for me than him; he can't help it). "Well, what can I do to help you?" He thought about it. "I need a quiet place to sit." Alright, I thought, I can do that.

The day proceeded semi-normally, punctuated with bouts of this particular student rolling on the floor, taking off his shoes, producing handfuls of cotton string from God knows where, finding something to play with no matter where I sat him, coloring one half of my guided reading table with his pencil, breaking numerous crayons, finishing his work with Phelps-like speed, obscene amounts of pencil tapping, and me holding his hands so as to keep them from the hair, backs, and shoes of other children. Through all this, he wanted to do his best. He really did. He knew it wasn't going that great, though. Bless his heart.

Shortly before heading to lunch where he proceeded to get tomato soup everywhere due to vigorously blowing bubbles through a very small straw, he moaned whilst rolling on the floor and holding onto his shoes: 


I... just... can't... help... THIS!


I feel ya, kiddo. I really do. 
Out of the mouths of babes...