The Stench

Tuesday. Seventh grade English. Sixth period.

The day had gone pretty well. But the instructional assistant warned me of one kiddo in period six. His seat was separate from the class for reasons. Okay, then. 

As I was getting the class going, the IA reminded Enzo of where his seat was. In the back, next to the door. I recognized Enzo; he had been in the art class (well, likely still is). 

The class settled into the assignment. They were reading something and answering questions. But laughter floated from Enzo's corner of the room. The table near to Enzo was enjoying Enzo's antics. Deep sigh. 

But then, that section of the room erupted in exclamations of horror. Enzo had farted, and they did not like the smell. I did the only thing I could. I ignored this. 

Enzo asked to use the restroom. 

Later, when the class had calmed down, and the table near Enzo seemed to be working, Enzo asked if he could go outside. 

My initial answer: no. But then I considered.

So, I went over to Enzo and asked him why. Yeah, he needed to fart again. 

Yes, please, take that nonsense outside. 

Enzo got no work done. If he had spent half the energy doing the assignment that he spent avoiding the assignment, he would have been done. But no. 

Alas, some of them never learn that particular lesson. 

At least we didn't have a repeat of the stench from earlier in the period. 

Downwind

Friday. Sophomore math. Second period. (Yup, them again.) 

Mr. Y was going over the day's notes (this day's discussion was about parallel lines cut by a transversal) when a terrible smell drifted in the room. 

Teenagers and terrible smells don't go well together. They react. Strongly. And complain. Loudly. 

When I am the only teacher in the room, this situation can devolve quickly. But luckily, this class was co-taught with a teacher they like. And still, the kiddos acted as if they were being poisoned. 

One of the boys opined that it smelled like someone had set off a fart bomb. Then the boys accused each other of doing that deed. Mr. Y and I both attested that no one in that room had set off any sort of stink bomb. 

There are days when things are chaotic enough that someone could sneak something like that by. This class at that point in the period? No. The class was way too calm. We would have noticed. 

Mr. Y continued on with his lesson even while a bunch of students made a lot of noise in the halls outside. Even while the kiddos in class whined and complained. I mean, the smell was bad, but not unbearable. And I'm pretty sensitive to smell. 

One of the custodians walked by. He set up a big fan outside. Then, Ms. P (another math teacher who I have subbed for a few times in the past) popped her head in. Her classroom was above ours. 

The smell was so bad in Ms. P's classroom that she had removed her class to work elsewhere. The custodian returned, and he confirmed what the boys had guessed. Someone had set off a stink bomb in the building. 

Eventually, Mr. Y finished with the notes portion of the class. Then it was time for the students to practice. I passed out the worksheet, and then I commented to Mr. Y that perhaps now was a good time to go outside. While he was giving notes, we needed the screen so the kiddos could see the examples. But now they had the notes, and they were just going to be working independently. 

Mr. Y agreed. 

It was a fairly nice day. The sun was out, but it cool. (It was around 9 AM.) My weather app said it was 60°. 

Most of the class got the worksheet done. The boys took advantage of being outside and did things that they don't generally try in the classroom. (Read: mock wrestling.) 

The students had left their backpacks in the classroom, so we returned for the last five minutes of class. The smell had dispersed. Luckily. 

Later that day, I got confirmation that the long term English assignment I knew was coming was going to start on April 1st. (I write about my previous week here, so this all took place on March 28th.) Which meant that this was my last even day in Mr. R's class. 

Quite the way to go out. Although, considering the second period, not all that surprising. 

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Joint Confusion

Seventh grade math. Sixth period. They did not want to come into the room. Because it smelled.

Middle school classrooms generally have an awful odor. I expect mustiness or body odor or someone passing gas. But that's not what caused the stink.

The room smelled like marijuana.

(I only recently learned what marijuana smells like. Call me naive. This sort of thing was not in my experience. But someone pointed it out--the upstairs neighbors partake--and now I realize it wasn't always a skunk in the neighborhood.)

I assumed the smell came from outside, but the neighboring classrooms weren't reeking. I got a whiff of it before fifth period started. Someone was smoking outside at lunch?

Fifth period had been difficult. I spent most of the period circulating the room. Keeping the kiddos on task didn't happen. I worked on keeping them seated.

You'd think I would have noticed someone smoking in class.

Considering the smell in sixth period, apparently not.

It was so bad, an assistant principal stopped by and walked the room.

(So, if my assignments suddenly dry up, we'll all know why.)

I swear, it wasn't me. And I have no idea how a kiddo could have hid that so well. Especially one who thinks marijuana in class is a good idea.

Is marijuana legal in your state/area? What crazy stuff did you sneak in school? 

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