Mr. Wiggles was the class fish; my students named him. He was a bright blue Beta who I purchased from the local pet shop in September. He cost all of $3.75. He lived in a little "Beta" cube, which cost approximately three times that of the fish.
From September onward, Mr. Wiggles lives in his little home, which was perched on the bookshelf in the front of the classroom, so all could see him throughout the day. The children loved greeting him as they entered the room, asking him how his day was going. If he ever dared sleep, the class would inevitably burst into raucous chatter about his status- was he sleeping, or had he died?
It became a bit of a ritual, really. I would be in the middle of teaching when suddenly a child would start pointing to the cube, whispering to their neighbor. Soon, nearby students would overhear and continue in the speculation, until I would finally have to stop, walk over and tap the polycarbonate glass wall. Every time he would spring to action and the class would take a collective sigh.
Yesterday I returned to work from an extended medical absence. After settling in, I noticed Mr. Wiggles' tank water was not the regular clean translucent blue, but instead had taken on a pond-like quality, murky and green. Shortly after I made my observation my students began explaining that they ALL decided to care for Mr. Wiggles during my leave. Apparently, my Sub. had done the same; Mr. Wiggles had been fed enough food for six months in 12 days. I told the students we would clean the cube on Tuesday, during homeroom.
Today during homeroom, I announced it was time to clean Mr. Wiggles' home. 25 hands shot up in the air, volunteering to do the deed. I assigned two students and gave them the supplies- a small net to get him out, a little cup of filtered water wherein he could swim while his cube was cleaned, paper towels and a pass to the bathroom for cleaning.
The girls eagerly grabbed the net, and proceeded to "catch" the fish. The fish was in a body of water approximately 4" deep, in a 6'x6" square, but catching him was quite the elusive task. After a great deal of argument over proper technique, coaxing and several "helpful" suggestions offered from on-looking students, finally the fish was captured. Sadly however, this was the beginning of the end for our dear pet.
Once in the net, the girls stood there, unsure as to what to do next. With great urgency, I told them he needed to be in water; they quickly slammed the net into the cup of water and held it there, looking at me. "He's stuck, we can't get him out of the net!" They cried. I explained, "You have to keep the net open and gently let him swim out."
They yanked the net (with fish) back out of the water and proceeded to "coax" him out of his entanglement- by pulling on the edge of the net and trying to knock him into the water.
At this point, several children were screaming "Be careful, don't HURT him!" But it was too late. Mr. Wiggles slid down into the clean clear water; he was motionless. His body pointed up, mouth at the surface, fin at the bottom, lying in the water like a torpedo.
The room went silent; they looked at me in horror.
One student tapped the cup. He remained still.
“NOOOOOO!” One student cried, in his best Hollywood yell.
“He’s DEAD! You KILLED Mr. Wiggles!”
The poor student looked at me aghast. “Is he really dead, Mrs. Scott?”
“Umm, YES. He’s very, very dead.”
“I’m so, so sorry, I don’t know what happened!”
“It’s ok, these things happen.”
I then declared he would have to be flushed. Again, 25 hands shot up in the air. Some suggested we have a funeral, some wanted to go in a group and have a “ceremony” in the boys’ bathroom. I declined all suggestions and allowed one boy to carry the fish down to the restroom in the plastic cup. Others volunteered to clean out the cube.
About five minutes later, the fish flusher returned, stricken.
“You ok Bud?”
“His head fell off.”
“WHAT?!”
“His head. It fell off. When I dumped the water in the toilet, his head fell off. If just floated there. It was really gross, Mrs. Scott.”
“Oh NO, I’m so sorry that happened.”
“Uh huh.”
And so we are now without a fish. Approximately 30 seconds after he was gone, students began suggesting new pets for our class. Some wanted a hampster, others a snake. The number one suggestion was a naked mole rat.
I vetoed all pet suggestions; I think we need a break from live creatures being in the class. At least other than the human variety.
