"I know you can hear me! Don't just sit in the corner and pretend that you can't hear me because I can't see you. You NEED to join us on the carpet."
Silence. I may as well have just handed the kid a list of pet-peeves so he could check them off as he did them, one by one.
"Excuse me, guys. I need to have a word." I informed the rest of the class and clickety-clickety-clicked off to the corner. TO HAVE A WORD. With the child who no matter what I say or do insists on acting like that little redheaded kid. In the bad movies. Here's an example.
Please don't touch Mika's owl. It is very fragile. We don't want to break it!"
Boy reaches... Cheery: "Don't Touch!"
Boy 2 reaches... "Remember boys and girls! Don't Touch!"
Boy 3 reaches. "Do. NOT. TOUCH." accompanied by the look.
What does this little bugger do? He reaches out, and when I chime, "Don't touch!" he looks right at me and darts his hand past mine and TOUCHES THE OWL!
Which leads me to wonder if sometimes I just don't break right out in to Farsi, or some language that HE DOES NOT SPEAK. And now he is sitting in the library, pouting, because he got in a fight with some kid on the carpet and they were yelling and I wanted them to reach a resolution instead of both having to come in for recess. How dictatorial of me! That I want them to play! Outside! How cruel! I should just do the white stripe and change my name to Cruella! I kneel down, and speak to him softly. No answer. I decide to give him his space and return back to the carpet. He cannot disrupt the class every time he would like some attention. Shit, if that were the case, I'd hop in the car and drive over to dh's work whenever I needed a hug or a hand squeeze or a kiss.
As I return I see the remaining children whispering. "What are you all whispering about?" I ask, reattaching the smile that had stormed off moments earlier.
"Mrs. TCWH?" a tiny voice piped up "We were saying that you were a pretty woman, but also that you are a MAD woman."
Those kids haven't the foggiest.