Published in The Fauquier Times-Democrat Weekend on June 10, 2011
Some people will do almost anything to get out of PE class, even for the last week of school.
Last Friday was the last day of school for students at Providence Christian Academy where I’ve been teaching math and science. Numerous end-of-year events were planned for our sixty or so students. It turned out to be a little more eventful than just the panned activities: the awards ceremony, followed the distribution of yearbooks, and the school picnic.
And then there was the call from the school nurse at Fauquier High School.
Oh, Lord. I’ve had one of those calls before. When the school nurse calls you, it is far more frightening than being called by the school principal. Give me the principal any day. You’d almost always rather hear that your child is acting up instead of throwing up, or even worse, that he or she has been involved in some accident.
Incidentally, I wish to say how sorry I am for all the families and friends who lost the young and precious lives in the tragic car accident in Bealeton. Please, in no way, is this column meant to try to compare my phone call with the awful news they received, nor with their grief and sorrow that will forever be theirs.
The last time I had a call from the school nurse, I missed it. I was in Reston and didn’t get to my cell phone that was uselessly vibrating on a ledge because I was wearing a dress without pockets. Fortunately, my husband was close to home that day, and he handled the call. It’s a good thing, too, because he handles blood better than I do.
That’s the time that my eldest son Sergio had been working in the shop class. Another student was trying to chop a block of unclamped wood, and the block of wood spun off the chop saw, sailed across the room, and skittered across the left lens of my son’s safety glasses, and then gashed him just under the eyebrow.
Immediately when that happened, several “cooler” students suddenly appreciated the value of safety glasses. Almost in unison, their safety goggles descended from their heads and onto their noses, like the covers closing on the cockpits of fighter planes.
Even I will admit that most safety goggles make you look about as appealing as a four-legged insect. These students began to see the wisdom of looking like insects with sight, compound, stereoscopic, or otherwise, rather than being dashing dudes with the eyesight of a mole.
By the end of that emergency room visit, he had needed five stitches to close up that gash. Head wounds bleed a lot. But you probably already knew that. When it comes to things medical, everyone has advice to give. It almost rivals unsolicited advice on parenting and potty training.
So, to speed the story along (only 350 words remain), Sergio got injured during PE class. Here’s a shocking revelation: no one in my family is athletic. We haven’t got a clue about the Redskins – are they some proper kind of potato? Just kidding. As an American, of course I know about our national pastime, right after watching reality TV and keeping up with Facebook: it’s baseball, right? Just kidding again. I know it’s football.
You may have thought my child was injured while exhibiting athletic prowess: dodging or lobbing a ball, but basically, Sergio tripped and fell backwards and sideways over an unattended dodgeball. Clutter can be dangerous.
The x-rays at Fauquier Hospital indicate that Sergio had a chip fracture in his femur. I’m not explaining that because you are probably a medical expert already. Just eat your redskins and email me with some advice on how to handle this.
He is home with crutches and a splint that is tightly wrapped in Ace bandages from thigh to toe until we can visit the orthopedist on Monday. In some ways, this is an ideal excuse from PE for him. Sergio has never cared for PE class – no offense, in case the instructor is reading this and considering awarding an A to a student who only brought home his uniform twice this semester for washing. My son claims his uniform didn’t need to be washed because, despite the best efforts of the instructor, he never really broke a sweat. Please. I guess if you don’t break a sweat, you might as well break a bone.
I got him home from the emergency room, with my greatest immediate worry being: What if he needs to visit the restroom while wearing this cast? When will his father be home?
The Friday evening commute back to Fauquier County is notorious, but my husband came home soon enough. Being the practical gadget lover that he is, he had already purchased a raised toilet seat, so the user can be seated almost as high as the sink. What a relief! And I really didn’t mean for that to be a pun.
My thanks to Sue Brittle, the school nurse at Fauquier High School for attending so well to my son.
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