I’d always suspected from an early age that if ever a bin landed on my head I would have a glut of quick fire gags at my disposal. At the very least a play on the word “I’ve been (bin)”… but no, when it finally happened all I could think was “a bin just landed on my head”.
Why a bin had been balanced precariously on top of a collapsible table is anyone guess but it followed just moments after I’d dropped my water-bottle lid down the toilet (again, no gags at the ready ). The persistent rain was ruining the kids’ day too. Our collective attempt at the opposite of a rain dance having failed dismally.
With little in the way of entertainment during wet play I found jobs, jobs and more jobs for my very willing class. By the 30th child I was struggling so I gave him the role of ‘doorman’. His job was to stand by the door and ask everyone coming in their age. If they were between 6 and 7 they could come in. “Oh and no trainers” I mentioned as an aside.
When the rain cleared the children ran into the playground like wailing banshees. Still, some were keen to help. Through the medium of telling the time I gave them different things to do “3 o’clock two children fighting” “6 o’clock child has just face planted” or “12 o’clock, child over there acting just plain weird”.
To kill the last 5 minutes of the day one child spontaneously created a story which somehow transfixed the class. I’m always staggered by how even the smartest of kids will sit and listen intently to any story they’re told. I find myself looking at them in a disbelieving way, staggered that they don’t ever interject and say the child equivalent of “hang on, this is absolute bollocks!”.
The most perplexing thing though was to discover a trail of shit in the classroom. How could a child in a concreted playground have managed to bring this in? My olfactory senses are not developed enough to have ascertained if it were human or animal. Did the child take a dump on their shoe and walk it in as some sort of ‘dirty protest’? And is that anymore ridiculous an idea than a bin landing on someone’s head?
Are you an alien? Experiences of a male Primary School teacher 
I love the crap stories some of ours make up…makes you wonder what they have on their cornflakes in the morning! x
On an hour and a half coach journey I got stuck with one child who told me an elaborate tale of a unicorn who’d lost a receipt. She had an uncanny knack of asking me “where was I?” each time I’d tuned out.