Sunday, August 15, 2010

“Raji just pooped his pants, and now he’s eating it.”

His dedicated aide rolls her eyes knowing that this is going to end badly. This really can’t be my life. My student is feasting on his shit. Can’t that kill a person? I mean seriously, don’t people die from eating feces? I know I’ve read something about this (by the way, he doesn’t die much to my chagrin).

After time stops slowing down due to shock, we both grab a poopy hand and escort the child to the bathroom. Now, I know this kid has autism, but seriously, this is too much for my already overwhelmed self. Poop is the very reason why I’ll probably never have kids. It’s totally gross and I don’t even like thinking about it.

So, we get the disgusting, poopy kid cleaned up. That part doesn’t really need to be described. Have you ever changed a poopy diaper? That’s what it’s like. And if you haven’t, then you are a lucky individual and you wouldn’t want to read about it anyway (besides I go into more detail below about how to change the most completely disgusting diaper known to mankind).

I want to cry; I want to scream; I want to quit this god-forsaken job. Who has to deal with this kind of stuff at their jobs? Certainly not my friends who aren’t teachers, and definitely not anyone in my family. Why can’t I quit? WHY?

I have another poop story for you. I need to get these out of the way because I need to completely repress them after posting this. The aide that takes care of Amy is out one day, in fact, two aides are out today. That leaves me with 2 aides. One for Raji because he always needs one and one for Julio, who also always needs one. That leaves me with the other five students and Amy definitely needs an aide all to herself.

Well, right now, she stinks. She stinks horribly. She stinks like shit. Oh god, no, please not me again. Why can’t I morph into another human being? Why can’t I instantly and temporarily be afflicted with anosmia or possibly even the inability to create new memories?

This shit changing is not as easy with only one person. I have to do this because both aides have now taken turns changing her diarrhea diapers, and it’s my turn now. Fair is fair and right is right. So now, it’s my turn.

I take her to the stall and of course she’s fighting me because Amy always fights us to use the bathroom. I’m pushing and shoving her in the stall. I put on the latex gloves and pull her pants down. I take off her diaper and shit falls everywhere. All over her, all over me, all over the floor, and all over her clothes. Really, on me? Poop is on my pants. This is a little much to bear.

I first remove the diaper from in between her legs and take that to the trash. Amy is now dancing in the mirror, laughing, giggling, and covered in shit and now the bathroom sink is also covered in her foul excrement. She’s babbling something to herself. She is clearly pleased with ruining my day. I wish she wasn’t so cute because I may have murdered her and lost my job and gone to jail for many, many years. I just want to leave her like this. I want to run out of the building and never, ever come back. This is not in my job description. I’m pretty sure it’s not.

Next, I use about 58 diapers wipes to wipe her ass, her legs, and her shoes. I don’t even bother cleaning up her clothes. The child is walking back to the classroom in a clean diaper sans clothes. I next clean the poop off of myself. Amy has a change of clothes, but guess who doesn’t? This stupid girl, I should have predicted this would happen and have a back up at all times.

Lastly, I clean up the floor and the sink, de-poopifying them both. Amy is still perfectly content jabbering in the mirror. She clearly speaks a language I don’t understand. The whole clean up scene takes about forty minutes. Yes, for forty whole minutes I smelled shit. It was so gross.

I still don’t quit. I really can’t figure out why I devoted my life to this classroom full of children who apparently live on another planet and abide by their own weird rules. All I can say is that I couldn’t quit. Even on the worst days, and those two days described above are two of the worst days I had teaching a class full of autistic children.

Alright, well, I’m back to enjoying my weekend. I hope you enjoyed my crappy memories. I will try to refrain from anymore shit stories because really those are the best two and the others have already been suppressed.

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