"Heeeeeey teacher," a child said to me, just as I was about to sit down and effectively ruin the fun of the children who were painting without fully being supervised.

"My name is Laura, not teacher," I said. Oh, the joys of working at a new school.

"Laula," the child said. Close enough. 

"How can I help?" I asked little Miss Four, standing in front of me. She was looking very bright and colourful in some new dress ups the kindergarten had just been given. She was wearing some of those old school, plastic heels, with the fake jewel that was front and centre on the clear plastic strap. I had to admit, I can see why people like to look at other people wearing heels, they make your legs look fantastic, and Miss Four's calves and the backs of her little legs did look very good. 

"Ummmmmmmmmm," she said, drawing it out. "What's that mark on your face?" she asked. 

Don't you just love how children have no filter and say whatever is on their mind? She was pointing at a small pimple that was starting to form on my jawline (stress related) which I had tried to cover with a full face of makeup in the middle of summer, while I was on outside duty (not such a great idea, I was a hot mess by day's end)

"It's just a pimple," I said. "Everyone gets them," I told her. I'd like to call bullshit on the Health Nurse in high school who told us that hormones and pimples stop once you finish puberty. That is a lie, but I wasn't about to explain that to the child. She may never trust a Nurse or Health Department worker again. 

"How did you get it?" she asked. "Is it from the boy germs." The way she said the word 'germs' she really stretched it out and over-enunciated it, so it ended up being 'geeeeermmmmss.'

"No honey, it's not boy germs," I replied. 

Another incident, later that same day. I was lying on my stomach, a pile of books in front of me, reading to some children in the shade of a tree. Now, our work uniforms are polo shirts (rather hideous actually) and I got told (little Miss Four strikes again) 

"Ummm Laula, I can see your boobies," and then she pointed to the gap in my shirt where my clevage could be seen, prompting the five or so other children in my group to try and get a look. 

I also recently got told (by a boy this time) while I was bending over to pick something up. "You know, teacher, your bum is big." 

"Thanks for that, J." I replied, sarcastically.

J thought on this for a moment. "I like big." 

Once again, thanks for that J.