"Hello?" I answered, expecting to speak to an adult.
Instead, it was Mark. He breathlessly informed me that:
- He had an assignment about California landmarks due in two weeks.
- He'd bring home the instructions about it tonight.
- He really, really, really wanted to report on Dodger Stadium, UCLA and Hollywood.
- I had to sign a paper agreeing to let him choose those landmarks.
"OK," I answered when he finished. "No problem."
"Cool!" he shouted.
And then the whole call struck as as kind of...unusual. I glanced at the clock -- it was 10:48 a.m.
"Where are you?" I asked. It wasn't recess or lunch time -- I was pretty sure he was supposed to be in class right now.
"In the nurse's office," he answered.
"Is she there?" I asked.
"No," he said. "I asked the teacher if I could go to her office."
"Why?" I asked.
"So I could call you and tell you about this!" he said, exasperated.
I realized he was calling to get verbal acknowledgment of his landmarks -- he was beating the other students' to the punch, claiming his landmarks before they could go home and get parental signatures to claim them first.
"Go back to class!" I yelled at him. He said his goodbye, and hung up.
That night we had a little talk about not abusing the teacher's trust. We discussed the appropriate times and reasons to visit the nurse's office (only when medically necessary; and only when she is there), and inappropriate times to leave class (i.e., to use the phone for non-emergency calls).
I still don't think he quite gets it. I should be glad he feels comfortable calling to discuss anything (everything), but my mom said it best.
"That kid!" she said, laughing. "He thinks the nurse's office is his own personal office."
I had to agree; he really does. Which is why he's not all that bummed he didn't get "his" lost cell phone back -- because he's already got a land line in his office at school.
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