Kinigirly's diary

[Forward_Lateral]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

[Static]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

OMG, you can't make this **** up!

[chernobylwraiths]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

If this wasn't No TOS, this would be destined for the HOF.

Hilarious ****!

[Gunzlingr]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

"Don't make me cotton candy your ass, mother ****er!"

[Mad Bomber]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

With a capital K!

[Forward_Lateral]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

@ a ****** sniffing "nose candy"

The computer thing was ****in hilarious too.

[Gunzlingr]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

I wish the links to the pictures worked.

[Forward_Lateral]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

******s rule! :

12/10: Meet Augusta...but don't touch him
Augusta is a new student this year. He appears very normal. He is polite, social, ordinary looking and appropriate (for the most part). The kid is even kind of intelligent. But he hates going to school and he is ****ing lazy. He's missed 13 school days so far this year. And when he is present, he is late. Always. There is no exception to this.

Augusta had major issues at his last school, which is why he transferred. Basically, no one liked him there, and, well, no one likes him here. He is overweight and German and his name is Augusta (pronounced Agoostah)--just like the fat kid in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
The kid has severe issues with being touched. This classifies his needs as special, and that’s why I deal with him. During a meeting at the beginning of the school year, some co-workers and I met with his parents and his old teacher.
One thing was made abundantly clear at this meeting: DO NOT TOUCH AUGUSTA. EVER.
Don’t even brush by him, or remove a piece of lint from his hair. If you do, he goes ****ing nuts and has to go home to shower and change his clothes. He is one of those "always wash my hands, afraid of germs" types. We have all heard of them, or have read about them in publications like TIME magazine. But this kid is 11. And is already a ****ing head case.
Many times I have walked by the office and have seen him sitting there with his backpack, waiting for a parent to come and pick him up. I will ask the secretary if he is sick or something, and she just looks at me and says "someone touched him."
Everyone in the entire school knows not to touch him. It was even announced at an assembly prior to his coming to our school in late September.
During the middle of October we had an assembly. It was a couple of homo’s that were putting on a juggling show. The kids loved the guys; their tricks, and all the ******-type **** they would say throughout the show. At one point in the assembly, the guys asked for a couple of volunteers to help them perform a stunt. Augusta shoots his hand up , and, for the love of God, he gets chosen. He walks up to the front of the gym, and the first thing the guys do is shake his ****ing hand while introducing him to the audience. I can see the mortified look on Augusta’s face. I can tell he doesn’t know what the hell to do. The juggler guys start handing him pins and bean bags and ****. They then take him by the shoulders, turn him around so that his back is to the audience. They blindfold him, and adjust the blindfold while it is on him. I am waiting for Augusta to lose it. A touch on the hand, the shoulders, and now the FACE!! I sit there, ready to jump out of my seat, waiting for his reaction. After they blindfold him they proceed to put objects in his hand and ask him to guess what they are.
This was the boiling point. Augusta drops the object, rips off the blindfold and throws it at the jugglers. Keep in mind that the entire school, kindergarten through sixth grade, as well as staff and parents, are watching this. He then violently kicks over all these bowling pins that were lined up on stage. He rips his shirt off, throws it on the ground, yells "PEOPLE AREN'T SUPPOSE TO TOUCH ME" so ****ing loud, then runs out the side door to the parking lot.
The gym is silent. Nobody knows what the **** to do or say. The jugglers were stunned but then quickly continued the show, which shifted the attention of most of the kids.
I run out after him, along with the principal and guidance counselor. He is running down the parking lot, off of school grounds. We are all yelling at him to stop. He doesn’t. I continue to run, the counselor goes to the office to call his parents, and the principal gets in his car to drive and capture him. Somehow, I lose him. The principal can’t find him either.
About 15 minutes later, I am still looking for him, and the office receives a call. The caller says that there is a child behind her wood pile next to her house, that he looks really shaken up, doesn’t have a shirt on, and that she doesn’t want to approach him. She guesses that he is from our school. The principal drives to her home, only a half block away, and finally gets Augusta to get into the car, but not until bribing him with a ****ing ice cream bar.
I am sorry that I wasn’t in the car at the time, because our principal says that Augusta gets in the car, picks up a container of Armour-All wipes on the floor, and starts furiously scrubbing his body with them. He is all worked up and out of breath, scouring himself with moistened automobile cleaning wipes.
Back at the office his parents are there to get him. They are all worried, and when they see him they are like "Oh, Augusta, we are glad you are ok, we were so worried about you." They make no mention of the fact that he cursed and exposed himself to the entire school.
About a week later, we receive a signed, 8 ½ by 11 inch color photograph of the jugglers. "To Augusta: Keep Reading! Best wishes and our Apologies."
We call Augusta down to the office to give the photo to him. He takes one look at it, tears it up, tosses the pieces in the recycle bin, and says, just like a normal ****ing person, "I didn’t like that assembly, I thought you guys knew that."

[mybills]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

One day Leigh saw one of my aids insert a CD-ROM into the CD drive to install a program. As soon as the aid turned her back Leigh had hit the eject button and slammed her hand on the tray hard enough to break it.

MBB's singer?

[Gunzlingr]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

In my 7th grade class, we had a tard who was really good at math and growing facial hair, and really bad at just about everything else. He was pretty much harmless, which was a good thing since he was physically ahead of the rest of us by 5 years and probably could have kicked all of our asses at once, but there were some funny moments, one of which I still remember clear as a bell 15 years later.
It was a normal day in the 7th grade. My friends and I were behaving like the bunch of little *******s that we were. In the afternoon, a couple of people who were affiliated with the police dept. showed up to talk to us about child abuse. Out came the goofy diagrams and movies where we got to learn that little Johnny made a big mistake putting his hands in his pockets and walking up to Mr. Molester in his 70's A-Team van. Don't walk home alone, scream "fire" if someone grabs you, blah, blah...
Then the lights came back on, and the two people from the police dept. started talking about how most sexual molestations were committed either by people that the kid knew, usually either family or friend's of the family, and how important it is to tell someone if that ever happened to one of us. Even 13 year-olds get a bit quiet when the subject of being butt-raped by Uncle Bob comes up, so the room was very quiet when Ms. Friendly-Cop asked the class, "Are there any questions that you'd like to ask us?"
Of course, there is dead silence at this point, as none of us want this conversation to continue any longer than it has to. Then, al of the sudden:
"Next door Jimmy made me suck his dick."
*loudest noise ever as someone drops a pencil on the floor*
Let me tell you, each and everyone of us kids wanted to be ANYWHERE but sitting in that classroom that day. The class tard was sitting in the middle of the room with everyone staring at him, from kids to teacher to the two cop wannabes. Finally one of them asked him to come outside and talk with them, and we didn't see him again for about a month. The principal was called in, and some psychiatrist lady showed up the next day to counsel our ever so slightly-more warped minds.
From the little I could find out later, "Next Door Jimmy" was another tard a year older than we were. Apparently he had a penchant for wanting to act out the things he saw on certain cable channels when the tuning knob let you see the picture - or hear the sound, but never both damnit! - through the scrambling. And I swear on my ability to ever score again with a hot chick that this is a 100% absolutely true story. It's one I like to tell when I'm ****-faced drunk at parties - which is about the only time I'm low enough to tell it, and given my lack of class, that says something about the story, trust me.

[Forward_Lateral]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

1/6: Augusta's fear of germs goes to a new level
Augusta has spent every recess inside with me this week, due to his candycane theft before break (see Archive 12/30: Augusta the thief).

He hates it. I hate it more. Augusta smells like a hot litterbox. This is peculiar, as I never noticed it prior to 2003. I honestly think that he is making himself reek in order to keep others away, lessening the chance that someone will touch him. I know, it sounds exaggerated to those of you not in daily contact with tards, but I know my naughty little reetees and I think this is the case.

On Monday he spent all three recesses with me, in my classroom, with his head down. He ****ing stank. Happy New Year To Me.

Tuesday he spent the two fifteen minute recesses with me. During the lunch recess (thirty minutes) I let him listen to a booktape at the listening station. I did this strategically, as the listening station is furthest from my desk. I didn't want my lunch to taste like the Augusta.

So here comes Wednesday, when Augusta proceeds to horrify me almost beyond belief.

It is approximately 10:30 a.m. when Augusta asks to go to the bathroom. I allow it, and set the timer. (They have 2 minutes to get back before they lose behavior points.) The timer goes off, Augusta is not back. Because he is a large child, I give him another 2 minutes. He still is not back. (The bathroom is directly next door to my classroom.) I send an aide out to get him. She comes back a minute later without Augusta. This is exactley what she told me:

" I yelled in and said 'Augusta, what are you doing in there?' In a deep, low mans voice, he says 'Go away, no one is in here.'"

Now Augusta is ****ing with us. Being ******ed and mentally disturbed, I do not find it odd that he is trying to play ghost in the bathroom with us. Now I am going to have to walk into the boys bathroom and haul his ass out. I walk to the door of the bathroom, which is always left open and say, "Augusta you get out here right now."

Augusta doesn't have a lot left to lose if he chooses to not follow directions. His behavior chart is already full of negative comments. He is already in at recess, with no snack, and I have told him already that he will earn no stickers for the entire week. I could revoke PE and Music privileges, but he hates them anyway.

"Do I have to come in and get you? Are you gonna be a baby?" (he is 11). Augusta doesn't respond. I brace myself and enter, only to see the most vile scene possible. This is the best way I can describe it:

The garbage can is in the middle of the floor. Augusta is squatting over it, completely naked from the waste down, one leg on each side of the trash can. His shoes, socks, pants and underwear are in a pile by the sink. His back is to me, his arms are straight out in front of him, and he is taking a dump.

I immediately turn and exit. I feel absolutely violated, like I had popped a few rohypnol, chugged a beer and laid myself on the couch at Phi Delts for all to have at. I then do what I do when I can't deal with what is going on, and push the alert principal button.

He comes down and goes into the bathroom. Augusta has dressed himself, and is washing his hands furiously. There is a pile of **** in the garbage can. The principal escorts him up to the office, where Augusta has a little one-on-one with the school nurse. My aide takes the bag of **** out to the dumpster.
Augusta's mom comes and takes him home, but not before a meeting with the principal. He said she was completely embarrassed.

The school nurse came down later in the day to talk with me. Apparently, Augusta doesn't want to sit on the school toilet seat because he is afraid of getting "butt germs". He used those two words! He will go pee at school, but will not sit down. I can only wonder how many other times this year he has had to take a crap....

[Static]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

"butt germs"

[SabreEleven]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

Yes, he said with a capital K. One of his spelling words last year was cotton. I am a poor teacher.

[kinigirly]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

oh man its times like these i love my job. you literally can not make these stories up...this **** happens every ****ing day at work. when you wonder why i drink every day and wanna mate with the assclown brothers....this is why. "tards" X 40 hours a week = Kini

[Forward_Lateral]

Re: Kinigirly's diary

Oh man, more good ****:

#12: Macaroni Fiasco:

I had the tards make macaroni pictures today. They make thousands of these things as they progress through the elementary school special needs program.

Despite that, most of them still have a lot of trouble getting the general concept. I'll usually end of with one or two students who don't use glue, and a few who don't use macaroni. The pictures they make are so open to interpretation you could use them as a Rorschach test.

The arts and crafts time was progressing as normal, in essence, the tards were yelling occasionally, getting frustrated and ripping up their pictures, or just staring at the big Tupperware bowl of macaroni.

I was circling the table calming them down and encouraging them to participate, when Kunte, who had been in the bathroom, started walking back towards the table. He saw Antonio taking pieces of macaroni off of his drying picture. Kunte yelled "MINE!" and started running towards the table. The table was only five or six little tard steps away, but after about three steps Kunte tripped over his own feet. He came crashing down face first on table, covering himself in glue and macaroni, and toppling the table, macaroni, and glue all over the floor. Antonio pulls his macaroni picture out from under Kunte and starts hitting him with it.

Picture this scene: One screaming tard covered in glue, pasta, and cardboard convulsing on my classroom floor, while another tard beats him with a rolled up, half dry macaroni picture. As this happens, the rest of the tards, even the ones who were just staring at the macaroni bowl, are now screaming, crying, jumping up and down, or trying to hide under the table.

My aides calmed down most of the bystanders. I pulled Kunte off the table and got his change of clothes (yes, we keep a change of clothes for all the tards) out of my cabinet. I punished Antonio for hitting by telling him he had to clean up all the loose macaroni. Because of his obsessive nature, this is appropriate punishment for him, as having to deal with that kind of disorder drives him crazy.