During Field Day on Friday I was ambushed and inked by a band of 10-year-old tattoo artists, who stamped me with my school’s insignia. As it turns out, this temporary tattoo isn’t as temporary as I thought it’d be.
I tried soap, a nail brush, baby oil, pumice, tape, a steel nail file and a blow torch, but alas, I still have that fresh-out-of-the-parlor look branded across my bicep.
As far as I was concerned, I still had two options left. Unfortunately, the Navy wouldn’t take me after I couldn’t complete a boy-style push-up. And the Hell’s Angels took issue with the training wheels on my Harley.
Any tips for elementary teachers going rogue are welcome.
