You need a little back-story for this one...
Taking the students on a bathroom break at school is one of my least favorite things for lots of reasons. At some point the boys end up making a ruckus in the bathroom and I can't police that because I just might lose my job for marching in there to holler at them. I have 6 girls and 12 boys this year. You would think boys would be quicker, but our bathroom breaks take f.o.r.e.v.e.r. Then there's the fact that I think they should be allowed to chat during this time, but they can't keep it at a dull roar. We are in the hall with other classes studiously working nearby. We will not be that class that everyone hears coming, so I am forced to make them be silent. I gotta be the bad guy.
So I send two or three kids into the bathroom at a time. The next one in line is supposed to watch and when one of our classmates comes out, it's their turn. I can't be counted on paying enough attention myself to tell the next one to go. Besides, if I'm eagle-eyeing the bathroom door, I can't be chatting with Suzanne (we can keep it quiet) when her class takes a bathroom break at the same time, now can I? I'm helping them develop responsibility and independence. Yeah, that's it.
I have a boy in my room who we will call Mr. Strange. He has earned that name because he is, well, let's face it...a little strange. Now don't think I'm being mean because Mr. Strange holds a special place in my heart. Maybe because he is so strange. He is a very smart boy, but really has a hard time separating fantasy from reality. He has a hard time moving thoughts from his head to either his mouth or pencil with any kind of logical order. I have to read between the lines a lot with this guy. One day I was have a particularly rough time with Squeaky Clean when Mr. Strange comes up to me and says something like, "You're having a hard time, so I'm just going to go over here and sit down." Now that seems a little random, but I think he was trying to tell me that he understood my pain. Insightful.
All that for this little story:
So it was unusual when Mr. Strange walks up to me yesterday and says, "Mrs. Robinson, can I go - because I need to have a wipe out." I'm certain I looked at him for a full 30 seconds trying to process what he said. In the end I decided I didn't need to understand and told him to go on in. Then I turned to Suzanne and she had an odd look on her face. Apparently she wasn't sure what he meant either. I still don't know what he really meant. I still don't need to know.