I am ironically the only preschool teacher that has an issue with snot. Apparently I am also the only teacher that is not grossed out by everything else. If there is a bug in the class, I have to escort it outside. If there is projectile vomit onto a classmate’s lunch, I fight the infected food away from him and clean the mess. I’m quick. I’m efficient. I seldom make squeaky noises. Unless there’s snot.
When there was a bloddy vermin infested dead bird that four kids were playing with on the playground, who do you think dealt with that? That’s right. Ana to the rescue.
I am superwoman, and snot is my kryptonite.
Currently I wipe a lot of boogies. I’m also shaping the future, thank you very much. But this story is not about that. This story is about how I think certain things are gross.
Baby snot is the worst. A baby, whom has no boundaries or sense, AND has snot to share, is very dangerous. S/he literally cannot think of someone’s basic desire to not have bodily fluids on them vs. his/her personal want to snuggle. Reminder: Snot makes me mini-freak-out.
I have grown immensely in the past few months because: snot is at the top of my gross-out list, and currently I wipe a lot of boogies. So I had this theory that I could slowly build up an immunity to my kinder-kryptonite.
Snot grosses me out. And I am forced to have it on me every day that I go to work. My super-sensitivity to it should gradually be fading away. Right?
Fast-forward to today: Snot on my face! I fight my knee jerk reation to drop my one-year-old “student” who had a very rough/loud/tramatic-for-me-time waking up. She gave me a kiss and snuggle and BLAM! She snots my face up. I haven’t dropped one yet. But today I came close.
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