Sex, Race and Religion

"Good morning, girls and b--I mean, good morning BOYS!!" I said cheerfully Monday morning. I was sitting in my favorite position--indian style on top of my desk. The first time I did that, Tyler just looked at me disapprovingly and shook his head. "You too YOUNG, Ms. M!"

Every Monday begins the same. It is a flex day, which means I have my first block for an entire two hours and fifteen minutes. That's a long time, folks, especially for the hyperactive-fourteen-year-old variety. I can't sit through adventure movies that long, so it's kind of ridiculous that we expect them to remain in their desks and talk hydrology for the same duration. Which is why I was perched on my desk instead of gesturing wildly about the water cycle in front of a power point. "What did y'all do this weekend?"

Usually, we go around one by one until everyone has had their hot minute (or five) of the fame. Answers typically range from "Nothin'." to "Went to the mall, met up with some females..." Occasionally I'll get a random "Ran from the police," but nothing too out of the ordinary for any other average middle-schooler. And so we went around this Monday. Norman had bought some new white shoes and Jaelynn had played video games, so I was half-listening when we got to Will. "Lost my virginity," he said with the same intonation as if he'd responded with "Ordered a pizza."

How exactly do you react to that? I asked myself for about the millionth time in the past seven months. "WILL. I HOPE you're kidding!"

"I'm not." The whole class is laughing, but Will is deadpan, and I'm starting to think that he's definitely NOT kidding. "I wore a condom, though."

Why is he telling me this? "I'm calling your dad right now and telling him!"

"He the one who GAVE me the condom."

Oh.

A guy came to our staff meeting the other day to talk about gang-related activity in our school and did a slide-show presentation of all the graffiti, paraphernalia, and signs he found on RMS campus. Apparently, the rosaries I see everywhere are supposed to signify the wearers' allegiance to some gang I forgot the name of.

Which I guess explains why, when I asked one of my rosary-donning boys where he went to mass, he responded with, "Uh...what's that?"

Other than the rosaries, I see very little sign of religion around school. A favorite phrase around my classroom is, "I don't _________; I'm a CHRISTIAN!" ex. "I don't cuss; I'm a CHRISTIAN!" Of course, five minutes later they're weaving tapestries of obscenities so intricate I have trouble following. From time to time, kids will mention going to church. One time I said something about my church and they asked if I sang gospel music there.

"Ms. M, you go whoopin' and hollerin' and the pughs? You start dancin' and catchin' the Holy Spirit?"

I don't know what was funnier; picturing my little conservative Presbyterian church body doing all these things, or conjuring the image of my "hard," "tough" boys doing the same.

These days are long, but it sure is getting to be pretty around here. The weather has been absolutely beautiful this week, and all the cherry and Bradford pear trees are blooming, casting their petals down in a colorful carpet. Sometimes (more often than I'd like), the best part of my day is walking to my car after school. Wednesday was definitely one of those days. After a long staff meeting, I charged as quickly as I could to my car while still retaining a shred of professional dignity. When I got in, I put down the top and threw the car in reverse. Ms. D and Ms. T, two young, white teachers waved and laughed as they walked by.

"You're so white in your aviator sunglasses and your Volvo!"

I smiled and turned my Lady Antebellum up a little louder. "Yeah, but I still teach at RMS!!!!" I threw up the deuces and peeled out of the parking lot, white lightning on black asphalt.