"The grasshoppers weren't an immediate issue, but the longer I sit here, the more I happen to look over, the grosser I find them. I don't know what it is... maybe it's the twisting of their fine, little legs as they move about and crawl over each other. Yup, that's definitely part of it. Still doesn't compare to a rearing maggot though. The fact that they're lizard food kind of makes it better. So long as I'm not the one that has to pick them out."
This is of course, regarding my neighbour, Sammy the lizard and his food.
Well, Sammy is still my neighbour. So are the grasshoppers. So are the fish. Here's where my story differs from February 6th.
My class was up in music, then home ec or shop. My AT doesn't teach those subjects, meaning that I don't have to teach those subjects, meaning that my class was empty. My AT had disappeared to the office and the EA was off taking care of another student. I was getting tests ready for tomorrow when another EA walked in with a kid. He was probably about six. Like most kids, he made a beeline for Sammy.
He started talking about how cool Sammy was and how he had a pet snake at home. The EA was asking him all kinds of questions and keeping him entertained. We were all at the same counter, about two feet apart. Eventually, because conversation had gone to "what do you feed your snake?" I suggested (stupidly) that maybe the kid would like to feed Sammy. We'd just gotten 50 new grasshoppers and they were all anxious to die. As expected, the kid's eyes lit up and he agreed that he would like to feed the class lizard.
I got him the little tank of grasshoppers and the little cups the kids trap the doomed souls in. He tried once or twice before proclaiming that someone else would have to get the grasshopper for him. The EA looked at me like "I'm not doing it. This is your deal sister." I looked at the kid who was waiting for one of us to man up and then I looked at the grasshoppers and thought, "Damn kids and their puppy dog eyes!". I took the lid off the container, took the cup and fished around for about a minute trying to trap a grasshopper. Meanwhile, I had forty of the little suckers crawling and jumping around my hand. Somehow, I didn't think of that.
I finally managed to catch a grasshopper. I put my hand over the little cup to ensure he stayed in there. I must have gotten a really dumb grasshopper because he didn't even jump up against my hand. That or I got the resigned, suicidal grasshopper... Either way, I passed the cup to the kid, he put his hand over it and once I removed the lid from Sammy's cage, he chucked in the grasshopper. Sammy didn't see him. We waited. And then all of a sudden, Sammy whips around and lunges. He lunged again. We all stared at him wondering if he'd actually gotten the grasshopper because we hadn't seen him chew it or make any other eating-like motions. Until he started licking his lizardy lips. After all that, we missed the damn lizard eating the damn grasshopper.
This is what I mean about kids having powers. I didn't even think about doing it. I've stared at and been grossed out by those grasshoppers for five weeks. I've vowed not to stick my hand in that filthy box. One kid comes around and I do it without thinking. I do it like I actually know what I'm doing. Which I definitely don't. Just to get a kid to smile. He did look happy and entertained... God I'm a sucker.
Eany, meany, miney, moe, catch a grasshopper in a cup.
Just to be clear, not this kind of grasshopper,
This kind.
That's my new experience of the day. Woo?
Lauren.
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