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Attacked by yellow jackets today during science. It's funny, because something has been in the air; one teacher came in this morning and warned my colleague to beware her "saturn rising" or something ominous along those lines. Then my principal came back from lunch with a random small birthday cake because "it's that kind of day." Of course this was not a day to expect to take 6 kids into the woods for some peaceful tree trunk diameter measuring and come out unscathed.
I don't think I've ever been in a situation where I am protecting kids but I also feel scared myself. After I realized what was happening when two girls got stung, I yelled "everyone run!" and we all high tailed it to the building. It was chaos. I was swatting them out of my own hair while kids scattered. We banged on the door to be let in, kids panicked, stung, weeping. I ushered them inside all the way into the classroom (I had lost 3, I hoped they were with the science teacher and not cowering under a swarm of angry yellow jackets in the woods somewhere). The room was dark, quiet and empty when we entered it, a weird contrast to the little girls with contorted faces who didn't know if they should sit down or drink water or sit down and drink water. To make matters worse, we quickly realized the attack was not over. J screamed "It's on my sleeve" and I calmly pulled her away from the other kids and whacked the thing to H E double hockey sticks with my Field Journal. My Field Journal is my new favorite possession.
It's so completely weird to hear yourself saying "you're safe, take some breaths, relax" while you can hear your own heart thumping in your ears. A teacher with first aid came to treat the wounded and a few more survivors staggered in. Meanwhile, the science teacher was in the hall, running around with a fly swatter and taking care of the infiltrating insects. To help paint a picture for you, he is a british martial arts instructor who usually wears a kind of pilot jump suit and his long gray hair in a ponytail. He was very gracefully and fearlessly leaping around in the hall and shouting battle cries as he swatted at the yellow jacket. At least that is how I am remembering it. I said I was looking for L and he said "She's in the preK classroom! Quick, close the door, there's one loose in the corridor!" I shut the door behind me and I saw the little bugger bouncing against the ceiling and meandering down the hall. Not to brag, but I must tell you how I trained my eye on that creature with the sangfroid of a stone cold assassin. All trace of fear vanished. Very calmly, I stalked that yellow jacket into a corner and dealt it a fatal blow with the trusty old Field Journal. I got a high five from the science teacher. And some pit stains on my blouse.
(Full disclosure: I may have actually swatted and missed a few times and maybe even shrieked and cowered and ran away from the centimeter-long opponent before I ultimately defeated it... but the point is I defeated it).
I kept the two yellow jacket carcasses to show them to the kids. I put them on a yellow post-it and topped it with an overturned little glass. One of them had some twitching legs and antennas. I don't really know why I kept them. Maybe I am hoping I can salvage this experience for the kids somehow, find a way to channel their fear into curiosity. It's just so ironic that you go into the woods to help children form bonds with nature, and you may end up traumatizing them and leading them to develop nature-phobias. Trying to stay cool in front of the class was a challenge, but I think I pulled it off. I got lots of curious kiddos peeking at those insect bodies, and asking good questions about these attackers. A few of them even started to appear proud of their battle wounds as they shared it with the other half of the class who hadn't been present.
If I accomplished anything, I hope I was able to convey to the students that there's a difference between healthy caution and straight-up fear. I let them know that I NEVER kill living things unless I feel it is absolutely necessary, like to protect my students, and that I have only respect in my heart for the yellow jackets (though between you and me, there was some satisfaction in crushing the culprits who hurt my babies). Knowledge is the power that can keep us safe. How about we learn how to avoid yellow jackets in the future! Fun, right? I'm sure I didn't say it as gracefully as that, but you get it. After all, isn't that the approach we want to help kids develop as they interact with all facets of life? Informed, critical, but also inquisitive and bold?
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