Any school is "special" as I like to say, but my school is "extra-special." Let me preface everything by saying that I love "who" I teach. That is the only way that you can work where I work.
I look at my students (and their peers) day in and out, and I can easily venture to say that each moment is an adventure in its own. Today started out normal enough. Morning frappuccino to keep me civil 
, kids are pretty calm. Pulled small groups to work with in reading and math. Kids worked on contracts. By the way, I teach 4th grade. Thought you might like to know.
Even Bill was being himself. "Bill" is one of my students. He is my most, well, unique one. His name isn't even Bill-that's just what the kids call him. Is his name even close to Bill? No, that would make too much sense. In fact, it came from one of my other kids who calls himself Larry. Is the other kid's name Larry? Of course not. Is it even close to Larry? Absolutely not. Does his name even have an L in it anywhere? No. "Larry", the kid who wrote his "name" upside down and crookedly on his class t-shirt during an art project. Maybe he is just as "unique" as Bill is. Short story, all the kids have fake names cause of Larry. And Bill. But I digress. 
Back to Bill. Bill is one of those kids you have to see in action. You see him, and wonder how his teacher can handle him. He is not "bad" so much as in his own little world. He is terribly entertaining. I don't think he means to be as comical as he is. His tongue is always hanging out the corner of his mouth, and he always has this vacant look in his eyes. He is everywhere and no where at the same time if that is even possible. Aside from his tongue, I can never be quite sure what is going to come out of his mouth. For that matter, I can never be totally sure what is going on in his head.
He was pretty much doing his "thing"-tongue wags to the left side of his mouth (hanging, but not dripping, for once) eyes darting around the room until he meets my stare, upon which the vacant look returns. The thing that always gets me is that no matter what news I have for him, the look stays the same. For instance, I can tell him "you got a 100 on your math test," and the look resurfaces. I can then turn around and say "you got a 25 on your science test," and the look returns. Today, however, I got a new version of his look. He was being extra squirrelly, and so I tell him that he may need to go visit another class today, and he gives me the vacant look, tongue still hanging to the left, but this time, adding a wrinkled brow. It is pretty bad when his classmates look at him, look at me, and then cut their eyes at me away from him in a look that says to me, "I worry about Bill, teacher." Lil' Bill. He is my...star. Yeah, we are the superstars...
Aside from Bill, who is often "out for lunch during even breakfast," a whole slew of teachers on my hall were out with content meetings, so anybody could guess what could be going down with a crew of subs. Not just for any kids, for the fifth graders, aka my trial by fire group. They were my first fourth grade class (I got moved to fourth last school year). Let's just say that when I walked by a room and heard the kids chanting "Jerry, Jerry..." I didn't check it out. 
Sometimes it is better just not knowing what is going on. I know enough about them to know when to pick my battles, and I opted to view this as a "professional growth opportunity" for the sub. I hope he comes back one day....
And as if that would be it...I then go to pick up the kids from lunch (Bill is literally at lunch, and not on a mental vacation) and I see this little, brown dog. In Max's defense, he is very cute. Max almost found a new home with me today. Max, however, was interested in what was brewing in the cafeteria. Bad move, pup..I wouldn't touch that stuff with a nine-foot pole. At any rate, with the assistance of a few other teachers and using our class jump rope/number line/clothesline,Max was apprehended and sent to the principal's office.
It is only fitting that it would rain during recess. That was okay, because we had dry things to do indoors. What sucked was that I was supposed to tutor after school, but a monsoon decides to come through. It was pouring pretty badly. I was waiting for Noah to come by on his ark, or guys on gondolas to come rowing through. Sigh. That means no afterschool dose of Bill, who is obviously my favorite student. Whatever will I do when he is one of the fifth graders I ignore when the sub is in over his head?