There's Always Somethin'

My mornings lately have been less than ideal.  First, there was the speeding ticket.  The next morning, my car wouldn't start.  I got that fixed in time to drive to work this morning and get in a wreck.

Ok, not a bad wreck.  But a wreck bad enough for Mrs. Sally Dickins of Greenville, SC to file an insurance claim that will leave me with a sizable deductable, I'm sure.  

The funny thing is, I've fantasized about having a wreck on the way to school several mornings. Please don't take this the wrong way.  I'm not suicidal (yet).  I just like to act out in my head all the little scenarios that might prevent me from stepping over RMS's threshold and committing my day to chaos and anxiety.  A little stream-of-consciousness to illustrate (just for you, Mrs. Hawkins):

Did I get everything at Harris Teeter for our density column lab? Got the syrup, vinegar, and food coloring--oh gosh did I remember to feed Buckley before I left? Food col--this is a terrible idea.  The day will end and I'll be stuck cleaning up syrup from every surface.  They'll get into the food coloring and dye everything blue and someone will without a doubt drink the apple cider vinegar on a dare...maybe I should change the lab...school starts in fifty minutes.  Too late.  Fifty minutes.  Fifty minutes 'til my day starts. I wish the drive were longer...7:05?I'm never going to get the lab set up before 8:15! I wish the drive were shorter...Did I save the power point to my jump drive? Shoot! I forgot to print out my lesson plan to turn into Mr. E...so much for getting on his good side early on...Ok if I didn't save it to my jump drive I'll just put everything on the dry erase board and make do.  Am I really talking about the lithosphere today? I didn't even know what that was until last night and I'm supposed to be teaching it? If the kids ask me any question outside of the paragraph I read, then I'm just going to have to tell them I have no clue.  Or make something up. Oh! I did feed Buckley because I noticed there was only a little left in the bag--should've gotten some more at Harris Teeter...poor lonely Buckley...who am I kidding?! Poor me! He's probably still asleep.  I wish I were still asleep. I wonder what would happen if I accidentally ran into that telephone pole? It would probably mess up my car pretty bad.  I'd have to get it towed.  That would definitely rule school out for the day.  But then I'd have to pay for it to get fixed...A tornado would be better.  Not one bad enough to kill me.  Just, you know, mangle me bad enough to put me in the hospital for at least a few days.  Insurance would probably cover everything. Yeah, tornado would probably be best.  That or the swine flu.  That way, I could miss school and people wouldn't even be mad at me! In fact, they'd feel sorry for me!  They'd bring me soup! Surely the swine flu isn't that hard to contract when you work at a middle school...at least I have options...

As I was complaining to my mom that not only do I have a stressful and all-consuming job, but also an increasingly difficult life outside of work (what with money worries and licensing requirements and residency claiming...), she told me something I sort of already knew but definitely didn't want to hear: Welcome to the rest of your adult life.

Shoot.

Today at school was no better, no worse.  All my classes are now mixed up and switched around, as we had to take on new students to relieve another team and even out our numbers in the process.  The result is that I have all the same boys, but in different mixtures.  Plus seven girls in 3rd block.  I can't really tell yet, but I think this is how the rest of the year might look:

1st block: awesome.

2nd block: not so great.

3rd block: horrendous.

4th block: bad, but might have potential.

It should be interesting to watch the class with the girls.  I'm glad I have a little more estrogen in the room now, but I can already tell those boys are going to spend most of the class trying to get the girls' attention.

My assistant principal came in and observed me 4th block.  Luckily, he came in right when the whole class was screaming at each other to "SHUT UP!!!"  He basically couldn't have chosen a worse moment (whatever. yes he could've.).  He probably thinks I'm incapable.  He's probably right. We have formal observations coming up.  That means that the administration come in and basically grades us.  If we're not where they want us to be, we get put on an improvement plan.  Or fired. 

I've got to stop being Negative Nancy.  Here's the funny of the day.  My kids have recently pointed out that the angrier I get, the more southern my voice becomes.

"Chill out, brah! She gettin' dat ALABAMA accent!"

"Ms. M, you know that when you get mad you get dat ALABAMA accent on!"

"Brah! She at like ninety five percent Alabama voice! You playin' too much! She fixin' to get all ALABAMA on yo ass!"

Apparently, my being passionate and southern have something to do with one another. Although I never considered myself much of either before coming here...

Shades of Gray

Today in our "moment of silence" I prayed for my kids.  I prayed that I would love them for that 75 minutes they were with me--no matter how impatient I got.  I prayed for patience with them, compassion for them, and kindness towards them.  

And you know what? Today I actually had a good day.  I'm not saying that every day I pray that prayer I'm not going to have issues or get frustrated, but it definitely changed my attitude before I even began teaching.  Which needed to take place since on the way to work I got a $145 ticket.  Yeah, that happened.

Today we learned about plate tectonics. To start out, I had them crack the chocolate layer of a Milky Way and maneuver the candy bar to mimic convergent, divergent, and transform boundaries.  Before I passed the candy out, I told them about my morning and how they were essentially eating $200 chocolate; if I hadn't gone to the grocery store before work I wouldn't have gotten a ticket.  They were amazed that white people got pulled over too.

The best thing about it was I think they actually learned something.  Other than how to piss off a "country" girl. 

Far be it from me to go a day without getting myself into some sort of a mess, though.  At least this one was funny.  As I was explaining convection currents, I made the analogy of a hair dryer blasting hot air upwards to split the plates apart.  To illustrate my point more clearly, I actually drew a hair dryer on the board with air shooting out of it.  First of all, that was a dumb analogy in the first place (but again, I'm an English major, not a science person).  Secondly, and unfortunately for me, the hair dryer looked more like a penis than anything else--a fact I realized as I grandly finished the last stroke of my "air current."  I could not control the class for a solid five minutes.  And to tell the truth, I couldn't really blame them.  I was having to turn my face to the board to keep from laughing right along with them.  My maturity level has dropped since I've graduated from college.

Let me back up.

Last week was the worst week I've had by far.  I'll skip the day-to-day drudgery and get directly to Thursday--the day I'll likely remember forever as the day I realized I didn't know what the hell I was signing up for when I accepted this job.  Third block came in, rowdy as always.  I spent 75% of my instructional time explaining how to go to the bathroom (in a line, quietly, in the restroom six at a time, no loitering in other classrooms' doors, no pushing, shoving, wandering, etc.).  I did this because we've tried to go several times, only to have our bathroom privileges taken away for the rest of the week because they can't do it.  Well today I was determined that they would go and that they would do it correctly.  After I wasted 10 minutes lining them up, I let them out of the door to watch them scatter and run, laughing, pushing, and shoving all the while.  They weren't in the bathroom for two minutes when Ms. D came out of her room.

"Ms. M, I'm sorry.  But every time your boys go to the bathroom, they beat on the wall adjacent to my room and we can't get anything done."

Before the words were completely out of her mouth, I was standing beside the boys at the urinals.  "IN MY CLASS. NOW."

After I got them back in their seats, I unleashed my wrath.  A solid month of pent up frustration.  I don't remember much of what I said except for something along the lines of "No wonder you're failing if you can't even go to the bathroom without me holding your hand blahblah I feel more like a babysitter than a teacher in this block blahblah."

When the bell rang, I walked the first half of the line out into the hallway, where I remained until the last of the class was out.  Then I walked into my room and saw it.  I saw the binders from my other classes that had been knocked onto the floor, papers ripped out.  I saw the trash can that had been overturned.  My eyes followed the paper ball trail to the lab sinks, which had all been turned on and were splattering the textbooks.  As I walked towards my desk, I noticed that all the tests I had just graded had been ripped up and scattered.  

All my anger had been purged minutes before.  This was a different emotion; frustration, helplessness, and hurt mixed with pure exhaustion.  

"Don't ever cry in front of your students.  In their culture, it is a sign of weakness; a sign that you can be walked all over.  They see you cry and they know what gets to you.  They WILL use it." 

I've heard this repeated over and over, and I began to say it to myself. "Lock it up, Ms. M."  I couldn't.  I stood at the door, back to 4th block students (who were looking around in shock and slowly picking up the mess) and started sobbing. Uncontrollably.  The more I tried to hold it in, the faster the tears flowed.  

"How can I continue to do this? Why am I working so hard for a group of people who hate me so much? What am I doing differently than anyone else to have this happen? What do I do now?" The thing is, I've been in difficult situations before.  The difference is that in the past, I've at least had some inkling of what to do to make it better or to get out of it.  

Not now.  I have no clue what I'm supposed to do, and no one else does either.  It's not something that anyone has an easy answer to, or else they'd have shared it with me a long time ago.

Ms. F appeared at my door, concern on her face.  "Who did this?"  

"I-I-I d-don't knowww!" 

"Go into my room.  Sit at my desk."  Ms. F gathered my students and ushered them into her classroom.  Now 40 pairs of eyes looked at me as I pathetically hiccuped in the corner. Ms. F walked in and calmly delivered a sermon on how teachers were people just like them--people with emotions.  She explained that I wasn't a weak person, I was just a person who cared about them--evidenced by the fact I hadn't jumped ship after something like that.  She then told my class that they'd be eating with hers while I "collected my thoughts." 

"You know," she told me when we were back in my room.  "RMS is a tough place, even if you're not a first year teacher.  Keep your chin up.  You'll get up tomorrow and be stronger for this.  Just know: when you're through here, you'll be able to teach anyone.  And I mean anyone."

I knew she was right, sort of.  But that didn't stop me from spending my entire "collecting my thoughts" time sitting in the corner, hugging my knees, and crying noisily.

I also knew this was going to be hard.  I just don't think I knew what "hard" meant yet.  I haven't ever really had it "hard." I've been blessed with blue skies and smooth sails for most of my life.  It's easy to trust God during those times.  It's also easy to forget your need for Him then, too.  I've seldom been more keenly aware of my depravity than these days.  Even though I'm supposedly doing this job to serve those in need, most of my thoughts concerning my job are self-centered.  I can't do what I need to do with these students on a day-t0-day basis.  Nor can I find it in myself to love these kids who've grown up trying to protect themselves by acting completely unlovable.  

Thank you so much for all of you who've already told me you are praying for me and for my kids.  Know that you are a powerful part of this, right alongside me.

"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."

Newton, help me.

Today was picture day.  It was funny getting all the boys ready; they are just as concerned with their appearances as the girls.

"Ms. M, you gotta mirror?"

"Maaann, wish I'd known today was picture day."

"Why, Jemon? Why does it matter?"

"Mann, 'cause I'da gotten up earlier and fixed my hair, THAT'S why."

"Jemon, you don't have any hair."

"You wrong for that, Ms. M."

Our school requires that we line the middle schoolers up to go everywhere.  They are to walk in the halls silently in a single file line.  Do you know how difficult it is to get them to do that? It is the bane of my existence, and theirs.  No, I don't know why it's the rule, but please just freaking do it so we don't have to walk back out and do it all over again. And again.  And again.

Ohh, the line.  Teachers judge you by it.  Students test you with it.  If your class is out of line, you suck as a teacher.  If your class is silent and single-file, you could be teaching them how to google porn in class and they'd still think you were the best teacher on the planet.

Unfortunately, my line usually falls in the former category.  It zig-zags and curves, often with several gaps, always accompanied with noise and pushes and shoves.  Ms. F raises her eyebrows as we pass by.  My assistant principle notices and makes eye contact with me.  It's sad that I might very well feel more pleased with myself if at the end of the year we had a flawless line than if they knew they steps of the scientific method.

Today we created a geologic timeline (the earth's entire history).  I started off by having them create their own lives' timelines.  I asked for volunteers to share.  Here are the highlights:

Me--"JORDAN. Get away from the window. Quit watching the girls play ball. Come read us your timeline."

Jordan--"Aright. I wuz born October 12, 1995.  Then, in 2000, I went to kindergarten.  In 2005 i started growin my hair out, August 2006 I got dreads, and now (September 16 2009) I have long dreads."

Me--"Jordan, you're right. You really do belong with the girls.  Your whole life's timeline--centered solely around your hair"

Jordan--"Yeah, see I TOLD y--wait, wait.  Naw Ms. M you dirty for that."

Rashee--"Well, I was born December 2, 1995, I moved to Charlotte April 15, 2000.  My grandmother died October 28, 2003.  I graduated elementary school in May 2006, and on August 28, 2009 I met the love of my life.  That's you, Ms. M.  You really on my timeline, you can come check."

Then when we actually got into the discussion about the history of the earth:

"How did the humans not get eaten by the dinos?"

Me: "The whole history of earth is cut into two Eons."

"How did they cut the earth in half??"

Me: "...and the rock layers tell us about the history of earth, even before humans existed."

"Ok well how do all the rocks stick on the earth's core?"

Me: "Gravity.  Anyways, the enviromental ch--"

"Well how do gravity get IN the earth?

Me: It doesn't get in the earth.  Or anything.  It's just there. It's a physical force. But like I was saying, environmental changes inf--

"Ok right but there ain't no gravity in space, am I right?"

Me: "Yes, but--"

"Ok so HOW DO GRAVITY GET IN THE EARTH? HOW DO IT GET IN THERE?"

"What did the first person do? Wasn't he just bored just sittin around there? Did he just wake up and there he was or how did he get there? How did he have more humans?"

Me: "Well there had to be more than one for reproduction."

"Yeah but how did they learn how to have sex?"

Most of my students failed our first test.  Apparently, I'm an awesome teacher.  And how does gravity get in the earth, anyway?

And another rap...

"Ms. M know I love her; she my baby girl.

She ain't just my teacher, she my whole wide world.

I love walkin to her classroom every single day;

Without her in my life I just might turn gay!"

Stop this train, I want to get off and go home again!

Today sucked.

I promise I don't write this blog to air out my complaints or solicit sympathy.  I know very well that no one likes to read a laundry list of "reasons my life is miserable today."  I honestly started it so that people could keep up with my teaching adventures.

Well in order to keep up with my teaching adventures, you need to know that it sucks.  Today I had an M&M lab planned where they used the different colors of M&Ms as their data to create graphs.  Sounds fun, right? Sure was nice of me to buy them chocolate with my FAT paycheck, huh? Especially when they are so kind to me every day; it's only what they deserve.

I will admit on my part that I probably should have planned a little better.  But who could have guessed that six hours into my day I would be sitting at the front of the room with my head in my hands as candy flew around the room, fights broke out over stolen M&Ms, and 1/4 of the class was engaged not in my graphing activity but in a freestyle rap about how this class sucked.  If I were feeling inspired as opposed to furious-slash-exhausted, I would have added a couple of verses myself.  After they left my room in complete disarray (which I left untouched to deal with tomorrow), I stared at a stack of 18 calculators that needed to be returned to the math teacher down the hall.  He had loaned me 20.  Great.  

They don't respect me, that's all there is to it.  I don't know if it's because I'm not even a decade older than them, I don't know if it's because I'm new.  "MOVE, Ms. M!" Norman says playfully to me in the lunchroom.

"I don't take orders from 13-year-olds."

"And I don't take orders from 23-year-olds!"

There's no way he could know that (I told them I was 40), but I kind of see his point.  They see me as almost an older sister they can mess around with. "Snow BUNny!!" they all call after me down the hall.  Whatever the hell that means.

I took up my first note today.  It was pretty much the highlight of my day (which, granted, isn't saying a whole lot). It happened to be between Rashee and Kia.

"So I was spittin game to Precious last nite but then I got back and said sumthin about Yasmine in my status and Precious saw and was like why you actin foney? I was like no Yasmine my girl.  Then Yasmine textin me mad cuz I was with Precious before. She just

mad cuz I said I didn't want nothin serious."

"Dam. Dats fckd up. You gon break up wit Yasmine? What did Precious say bout u HA?"

After I took it up ["Mannn, Ms. M--Chill! Why you takin my stuff?"], I kind of forgot about it until lunch.  I read it in the cafeteria and made an immediate beeline to Rashee and Kia.  I put my arm around Rashee.  "Rashee, man. You KNEW Precious was going to see what you put about Yasmine in your status.  That was just STUPID.  You were ASKING for trouble; I don't even feel sorry for you!"

His eyes got wide. "Man, Ms. M know about Yasmine! Where you get that information at?? KIA! She know about Precious! Where you get that information from, Ms. M?"  Realization flashes across his face. "Ooh you read my note! She read the note, Ki! Ohh, you WRONG for that, M. You wrong. WHATEVER. It ain't nothin.  It's all good and I'm still talkin to BOTH of them!"

It's 11:15. I've got a study guide to create and grades to calculate. Thank goodness tomorrow is Friday.

Missing you.

I went to the Alabama game in Atlanta this weekend.  I was so excited to go to the game, cheer on my team, and see my friends and family.  I did all of those things, but I left sad.  Instead of traveling back home behind the team bus, I'm headed the opposite direction.  I think that seeing some of the people I miss the most just reminds me of what I'm so far away from now.  And then my friends who weren't there but should have been made me feel like I was missing something the whole weekend.  I kept checking to make sure I had my ticket and my purse...

I missed a call long distance call from East Asia from Susan and Lyndsey.  I can't remember the last time I didn't talk to Suey on a game day!  The whole weekend I wanted to turn to her and tell her something or ask her about the stats for the game.  It was weird wandering around East Andrews without her.  I sound like I am talking about a significant other.

The thought of going back to school tomorrow has painted my day off a shade of gray.  I'm not ready for the week ahead, even if it's a short one.  I already feel so behind as far as work; like I should have been doing stuff for school all weekend.  But that would have been miserable and exhausting.  How do I balance it all?

I keep asking God to show those kids to me through His eyes.  I need to love them like He loves them, but that requires me to see them in a completely different light.  And I need patience--patience like I've never needed before.  It's funny, the more I try to meet these students' needs, the more I realize I need myself.  

Good night, good night.  If you're reading this, know that you're missed.

Rashee's song for me today...

(as we are lined up waiting for the bell and the rest of the class is giving him a beat)

in the spirit of Biz Markie's "Just a Friend"

"Ohh Ms. M, you--you got what I need

 But you say I'm just a student,

 You say I'm just your student

 OOOOHHH Ms M..."

Is this real life?

So I'm a teacher now.  And of all things I don't have time for, it's definitely blogging.  But I'll thank myself later, and right now it sounds much more appealing than grading papers or thinking about behavior management strategies.

A lot of things are competing for space in my head right now, but the most prevalent thought these days seems to be "What am I doing??" I have never in my life felt so unprepared or unqualified for a position. I've been through training.  I'm a good public speaker.  I can plan pretty good lessons.  I care a lot about kids.  All of these things fly out the window the second I enter my middle school.  Instead of remembering all these things about myself, I am overwhelmed with a sense of desperation.  

"How did I get here?"  That's another one of those thoughts that keep surfacing.  Just nine months ago I was living in Tuscaloosa surrounded by friends and family.  My days consisted of sleeping late, reading for class, and deciding where to eat for dinner. The most stressful thing on my agenda was maybe a research paper or deciding what in the hell you wear to a 35 degree football game and still look cute.

Now look at me.  Actually don't.  The bags under my eyes might be roomy enough for even Susan to pack a whole weekend's worth of clothing in.  My hair looks like a schoolgirl's because I haven't had time to get it cut in three months.  I am breaking out from lack of sleep or surplus of stress--or both.  My days are spent lecturing students on how NOT to flood the room with the lab's eye washers, my nights laboring over worksheets I know will be wadded up on the floor in mere hours. 

My last block is a nightmare.  It is the reason I wake up when it's still dark outside with a pit in my stomach.  I've tried everything--only to be laughed at, rebelled against, or otherwise ignored.  Every. Single. Day.  I don't think I've taught them one thing yet, and I don't know how I'm going to.  I plead with them to care, plead with them to become invested in the systems that have worked for all my other classes.  I'm sorry, though.  I have a kid in there that started a full-force riot at school last year when he taxed the other kids for money using threats.  I mean, ambulances, police cars, an injured teacher...This kid has been to jail--more than once.  He doesn't give a crap about my raffle tickets or behavior point deductions.  I know I'm not supposed to say those things but that's how I feel. You tell me what to do with him and how to make him care.  Yesterday I couldn't even hold in my tears before the last two kids were gone.

"What's wrong, Ms. M?? Is it 'cause you didn't eat lunch?  You know, you don't really need to go on a diet."

Thanks DeAngelo.

People of authority actually put me in this position.  I almost laugh out loud every time I look around me.  I am in charge of 83 students' educations.  I call their parents and their parents call me ma'am.  Don't they know I just finished school myself? And that "responsibility" to me meant merely "remember to take the trash out on Tuesdays (or was it Thursdays?)?" One of our unit plans is entitled "Hydrology." I haven't the faintest clue what that is, excepting that it probably has something to do with water.

It's not all that bad.  I just feel so disconnected from most of the people I love, and so disconnected from my former self.  Some moments make me remember why I moved and took this job in the first place.  My first two classes were sent from heaven.  Take Ontario.  He's so cute I can't stand it. When I first saw him, I thought for sure he was the younger sibling of one of my students, judging by his size.  That's the funny thing with middle-schoolers.  Some of them look like babies while others tower over me.  I digress.  Ontario sits in the second row and just grins at me all day.  I make all my students shake my hands when they walk in the door, and Ontario was late today.  When he came in, he walked directly over to me.  Assuming he was coming for our handshake, I reached my hand out--only to be surprised when he threw his arms around me for a hug.  Then, after lunch (he had been out of my class for two blocks already) he caught up to me in the hall.

"Ms. M?"

"Hey Ontario!"

"Ms. M! You made me get a 95 on Mr. K's test instead of a 100!"

"Now how did I do that?"

"Well, the last question was 'Who's your favorite teacher?' and I put you.  But I was supposed to put him, so I got it wrong!"

Thank you, now maybe I can survive 4th block without crying today.  

When I call parents last night, someone picks up at Elijah's house.  Elijah is another one of those faces you just want to pinch. 

"Hello?"

"Hey! Is this Elijah's mom?"

[can't understand response, sounds affirmative]

"Oh, well, hey! This is Ms. M, Elijah's science teacher. I just wanted to call and let you know Elijah had a great week his first week of school--"

"No, Ms. M! This is Elijah!!"

"ELIJAH! Are you trying to be sneaky and intercept my calls?"

laughter. "No, Ms. M! Here's my mama."

After I'd talked to his mom for a while, I hear him begging his mom to give the phone to his dad so I can give him the good report too.  Then he takes the phone away from his dad and asks me all about school the next day and tells me all about the shot he just got for his physical. He didn't want me to hang up.

So there's that.  And the endless supply of funny stories or dinner conversation starters.  Teaching all boys is about the funniest thing that could have ever happened to me.  I consider myself a fairly girly-girl, so it has been interesting to be surrounded by so much testosterone all day, every day.  Burping, flatulence, sexual innuendos...these are all common daily occurences.  I ask them several times a day what I did to deserve it all.  The second day of school, I asked them to tell me the negative impressions they had of me when they walked into my door (a lead-in to our discussion of stereotypes).  Top responses included "aneorexic cheerleader" and "country" before Da'Juan (who'd been giving me eyes from the moment he sauntered in) chimed in with "kicky."  I'd never heard of that one, but I figured it meant "peppy" and fit alongside the cheerleader part, so I wrote it on the board.  

"No, Ms. M.  I said kinky."

How do you respond to that? I didn't.

Then there's Rashee--the one who, when I asked if anyone had questions the first day, immediately asked for my number.  He is a handful to deal with in class, but gosh he's funny.  It's hard to discipline him when I am cracking up.  At lunch, he was making fun of Brett, saying he couldn't get any girls.  

"Latoya! Brett says 'wassup.'" [Latoya rolls her eyes] "DAMN, bra! I told you you can't pull no female!"

"It's ok, Brett," I say.  "Just ask another girl the same thing about Rashee and see what happens."

"Do it, Ms. M!" Rashee says.  "I can pull ANY. GIRL. In here! Do it!" 

I look around, seeing only the cafeteria ladies.  He notices.  "Yeah, Ms. M! Even the lunch ladies! Hey--lunch ladies!"

He runs over to them as I watch, amused.  At first they shake their heads. "Sit down, chile!" But he continues to approach them, smiling.  He nearly knocks them down with his hug.  Sure enough, their disapproval quickly melts into laughter and returned hugs.  He returns triumphant.  "See? I told you! Even the lunch ladies."

"Rashee," I point out, "It's one thing when the ladies approach you.  It's another when you force yourself on them!"

"Ohhh, Ms. M you'd better hush--I'll pull you too!"

I start laughing.

"Why you laughing? 75 minutes is a loong time, Ms. M. That's how long you got me for.  I can talk for 75 minutes! Yeah I'll pull you--you just watch.  How 'bout you go ahead and make it easy for me and just give me yo number.  I gotta bike you can ride on the back of.  I'll take you someplace reaal nice."

It's going to be an interesting year.