Dirty Work

I knew Will was trouble from the moment I first laid eyes on him.

We were in the lunchroom, and Norman called to me from the tray line. "Ms. M--you gotta come meet my brother!" I walked over to say hi and Will introduced himself.

"I'm Will. Norman--he my brah. Not my blood brother, but you know." He put his arm around Norman's neck. "I think I'm gonna try an join YOUR class. What do you think about THAT?!"

"Well, good luck." I told him. "You'll have to put your name on the waiting list."

Fast-forward 8 months. Will has been...if not a thorn in my side, then definitely a splinter in my foot. A nasty splinter with spiky edges. He is under the impression that he can do no wrong and that he runs RMS. The teachers and administrators? Merely pawns in his game. He either ignores them, rebels against them, or manipulates them for his own purposes.

That being said, Will is not a bad kid. He is a smart boy who cares about his grades and wants to do well. He's an incredible athlete, a loyal friend, and generally good-natured. I remember the first time I called his dad to give him a bad report. The next day Will (always the first one in my classroom) walked in with an accusing look on his face. "Mad?" I asked him.

"Naww." Will answered after a pause. "How could I be mad at Ms. M?"

Another time, Kh'Daius was horseplaying (gosh that word makes me sound like a grandmaw) near the door and accidentally slammed my finger in it. HARD. And you remember those massive, heavy wooden classroom door. OUCH (I screamed that, along with several other less-repeatable words). I hunched over in pain, clutching my throbbing finger. Will saw the whole thing and ran up to me.

"You ok, M?? Mann that had to hurt bad. You ok? Kh'Daius you better tell M you're sorry. I'da been cryin' right now or somethin. GIVE HER A HUG AND TELL HER YOU'RE SORRY."

The other day Will was bugging me to take them to the gym. Since they had done well on their post-test, I agreed to take them for the last 10 minutes of class. That wasn't good enough. Every time I began teaching or gave an assignment, he'd pitch a small fit. By the end of the block, my blood was boiling.

"I TOLD you I would take you to the gym the last TEN MINUTES of class. You should be THANKING ME, not making me REGRET I ever mentioned it!!!!! Line up. And I don't want to hear a WORD in the hall. The 6th grade is holding an assembly and you will NOT embarrass me!!!!"

Will walked out of the room and proceeded to dribble a basketball down the hall. "Will. If. You. Bounce. That. One. More. Time." Will glanced over his shoulder, paused, and (you guessed it) bounced it one more time. Channeling my inner mom, I grabbed the back of his arm and pinched so fiercely his eyes watered. What did Will do next? He turned around and returned the favor. Times ten. The back of my arm throbbing, I stomped into the gym and spent the remainder of the block fuming in a corner.

Don't get mad. Get even. But how do you get even when your only offensive attack--The Mom Pinch--has been hijacked and turned against you? Will easily outsized me and was most definitely superior in speed, agility, and strength. I know my limits. I also know that all's fair in love and war, so I asked Mr. K to do my dirty work for me. Since his former job required him to keep prisoners on lock, I figured he'd be up for the task.

I watched from my doorway as our team roared down the hall after lunch. Mr. K stood in his door down the hall, waiting. Poor Will didn't know what was coming, so he wasn't even flexed when Mr. K got him right in the stomach. "DAMN!! WHAT WAS THAT FOR??" Will gasped. As he straightened up, our eyes met and realization flashed across his face. "OOOOOOOH, IT'S OVA FOR YA, M!!"

Last week our whole team was outside after lunch. I was leaning up against the brick wall, enjoying the sun when Will appeared out of nowhere and joined me. He had been a particular jerk that day. We stood there in silence for a while. I sighed. "Will, tell me WHY you put me through so much hell and yet somehow, SOMEhow, I still love you." Will smiled and shook his head. "Tell me why I feel the exact same way about you?"

Rashee came back Monday, much to the excitement of some of you, I'm sure. Will was particularly happy. He and Rashee have been best friends ever since they got in a fight in 6th grade (I know, I don't really understand either). Rashee apparently got his butt whooped.

He was throwing a tennis ball around the room while I was teaching and I jerked it out of his hand when he wasn't expecting it. "GIVE ME MY BALL, M!!"

"No, Rashee. Maybe at the end of class." Rashee jumped out of his desk and stormed to the front.

"Chill, brah," Will warned him.

"OH you BETTA gimme that ball if you know what's BEST for you! I'll punch you in the face so fast you won't even KNOW what hit you! BAM!" Rashee jabbed the air.

"Who you talkin' to, Rashee?" Will asked, displeasure punctuating his question.

"Ms. M!"

"OH NO YOU AREN'T!! Sit your ass down, fool!"

I smiled at Will's glaring face. For the second time that week, someone else had done my dirty work.