The Puke Factory

It’s Monday. I’ve just finished teaching science to my preschoolers. The experiment for the day consisted of creating a rocket and using a spring, launching it into the air. We counted down…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. LIFT OFF!!!! 11 rockets (well, paper cups actually) went zooming into the air in all directions and 11 children squealed with delight. It was chaos. It was loud. It was fun! Little did I know, the term projectile, would come up again that day.

Now it’s time for afternoon classes. We’ve been talking about time, the weather, and clothes in this unit. “How many days are there in one week? How many weeks are there in one year?” My students have only seen me three times a week since March and they can already answer these kinds of questions – and, they’re 8 years old (picture at left (these are most of the students in the class)). We continue with the warm up.

The shy kids do their best to go unnoticed, but I like everyone to be included in the conversation. One of my shyest students, Samuel, refuses to answer a question and remains completely silent. Strange…he always tries to answer or will at least give me the eye to tell me the questions is too tough for him. I ask someone to help him out and continue the lesson thinking maybe he’s just tired.

James continues to try to answer every question without being asked for the answer. Tom continues to hum the tune that’s in his head. Alex continues to tell others “Don’t speak Korean!” and Samuel keeps his eyes focused on his book. It’s a normal class, right?
I turn my back to write a sentence on the board and then… “Teacher!!!! Teacher!!!! Samuel!!!!” James is shouting from across the room.

I stare in horror as a jet stream of cottage cheese erupts from Samuel’s mouth. But it’s not cottage cheese. I look for the box of tissues and note the location of the garbage can. “Where are the tissues?” I shout out. I run to the garbage can and start saying repeatedly, “Samuel are you ok?” His eyes are half closed and he remains hunched over his Student Book which is now covered in chunky, white vomit. James locates the box of tissues for me and I drag the garbage can over to Samuel’s seat. The kids are all staring at the puke as though they don’t want to look but just cannot look away. “It’s OK, Samuel.” I try to make him feel better but know that he probably feels awful (and embarrassed).

I cover the puke with tissues and then realize that that will not do in this situation. I attempt to move Samuel so his head is over the garbage can, but he won’t move. And then, ding ding ding!!! Round 2 comes. More vomit fills the Student Book and starts to ooze over onto the table. The kids are screaming. The smell is vile. I start to gag and then, I almost puke into the garbage can myself. I am dry heaving. My students are running to the corners of the room. It seems they are about to vomit as well. Is this really happening? It felt like we were all part of a movie. Whether or not it’s a horror or comedy film is for you to decide.

“Susanna! Go tell the desk teacher to call your mother!” Susanna is Samuel’s twin sister who has also been watching the situation unfold. She understands and leaves the room immediately. Then I realize that I need to start cleaning up this room and fast.

The students continue to stare and look away and stare and look away at the ghastly scene. “Nobody move. I’ll be right back!” I run down the hallway and ask the desk teachers for a mop and paper towels. They set into motion and I go to grab a stack of towels from the girls’ bathroom myself knowing that the desk teachers would have to come in here anyways and I might save them time. And then, the vile smell replays in my nose and I dry heave not once, but twice.

I try to recover quickly and run back to the classroom. Two of the desk teachers, Chloe and Hailey, have come to the rescue with a mop. The windows are fully open and all of the students are trying to breathe fresh air coming in. The return to the smell brings about another dry heave and the desk teachers freak out thinking I’m going to puke. “Oh teacher!!!!!” Luckily I didn’t. I start to help with the cleanup process and send the students to get water and go to the bathroom. Hailey sprays the room with an odor eater solution and the classroom starts to smell better instantly.

Samuel still remains in the same chair almost in a state of shock. “Are you ok?” He looks up at me, finally, and gives me a head nod. We gather his things and he and Susanna leave the room and the school for the day.

Upon their exit, my students began to replay the scene that had just unfolded. Fake vomiting noises trying to be able to explain in English what happened prompted a quick lesson in the different terms and now, some of my students, who remember well, can effectively use the word vomit in all of its tenses.

I am proud of my students for the way they handled the situation. They did not laugh at Samuel or say mean things during the incident and wished him well as he left the classroom that day. The next class, no one picked on Samuel or made fun of him either, when they very well could have. They instead, asked him if he was ok. It showed me how much this class has bonded over the last 11 months and my overwhelming pride is proof to me how much they have had an impact on me.