Teaching and Kids

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I'm a virtual teacher. That means I work from home. That means I teach once a week, but I set the times that are convienent for me.

Or so I thought.

I held a class on Wednesday at 1 pm. Boyo's normally asleep and Girlie's normally enthralled with a show then.

Oh, not this Wednesday!!

Boyo was settled into his bed, ready for his nap. Girlie was coloring in her room.

12:57: I'm chatting with students when my daughter waddles out of her room, panties around her ankles, shouting "I need you to wipe my butt!" The students who are in my "room" early started to smirk.

1:00: I press record and start teaching.

1:01: My son poops. I can smell it three rooms away. I pray he stays asleep and keep teaching.

1:03: My daughter yells, "It smells like poop in here!" My students start to snicker.

1:06: My son wakes up crying. My daughter says, "I'll go get him!" She proceeds to run to his room, clamber over the baby gate like a monkey, and slam the door. Silence. I keep teaching.

1:09: My daughter opens her brother's door, climbs over the gate, and stands in the hallway, shouting, "Brother got poop on EVERYTHING!" My students are now hilariously laughing.
I take five minutes - posing the questions: What do you think was the start of the Cold War? Why? for my students to ponder - and go to my son's room. My daughter's right. There is poop on the boy, bed, pillow, blanket -- in short, everywhere. Working quickly, I strip the boy, clean him up, put him in his sister's bed, and reset up the baby gate. I set Girlie up in my room.

1:14: I start teaching again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my daughter clamber over the baby gate into her room. I decide to ignore it so long as they are quiet. After all, how much trouble can they get into?

Alot.

1:35: I finish my class. It's eerily quiet in my daughter's room. I hear her say, "And then you just jump." I answer a student's question, while I am carrying my laptop to my daughter's room to see what is jump-worthy. The door to her room opens. She shoves a chair to the baby gate. Her brother climbs up the chair, throws a leg over the baby gate, and tries to "just jump" over it. He and the baby gate collapse.

1:36: I call it a day with my students and comfort my son. As I am rubbing his back, I notice the crayon markings on my daughter's wall.

I need a nanny on Wednesdays.