Giraffe Tale

"That kid and I are going to get along," I thought to myself the first day when I watched Jordan Barrett walk into my classroom. He was wearing acid-washed skinny jeans, hot pink high-top converses, and a black T-shirt with a neon logo. Along with the outfit, his black-framed glasses and shoulder-length dreads screamed, "Look at me! Love me! And if you don't, screw you! I love me enough for the both of us!" The other thing that sold me completely: the kid dances like none other. He puts Chris Brown to shame. I am amazed at the things his body does when music starts playing. I've had him try to teach me a couple of moves, but I will never, EVER look like him when attempting. It's amazing, really.

Jordan cracks me up. The way he talks is impossible to imitate--much less try to put in print--but when he asks, "What?" he stretches the word into about four syllables (two syllables too long for even Alabamians). He is playful, witty and fun to be around, but he's not academically inclined in the least. One time I asked him to give me an example of a the risks and benefits of using chemicals. His response:

"One time I pump the baketball full of air. It got oranger and more bouncier."

What!?! To make up for his below-average performance in class, he writes meticulously and doodles all over his assignments. He doesn't love school--probably because he has such a hard time with it--but he makes the most out of it. I love him.

Today he came in with three Silly Bands around his wrist. Silly Bands, for those of you who don't know, are hair elastics that are shaped like little animals until you put them on your wrist or in your hair. For some reason, I am intrigued by them. I've seen several of my kids with them and secretly covet them. "Jordan! Are those Silly Bands?? Give me one!" Jordan laughed at me. "I'm serious!! What animals do you have?"

"Uhhh, what's this one?" he asked as he pulled a deformed cat from his wrist.

"A cat. See?" I put it down on his paper and drew eyes, whiskers and claws in the appropriate places.

"Ughhh. He UGLY! I got a giraffe too." Jordan pulled off a kangaroo and put it on the paper.

"Jordan. Honey. That's NOT a giraffe."

"Well...I swear I got one, Maddy! See?" An overly-stretched, sad excuse of a giraffe slowly unbunched beside the mutant cat.

"That's...a giraffe?" I asked. "It looks more like a wishbone or...some type of carving tool...Where's its tail anyways?"

"Ms. M." Jordan said slowly, as if he were talking to a child. "Giraffes don't HAVE tails."

"Pretty sure they do, Jordan."

"You stupid! No they don't!"

I started doubting myself. DO giraffes have tails? Of course they did, didn't they? But then again, when was the last time I spent quality time with a giraffe? I'm sure I've seen a couple at the zoo, but my attention was probably focused more on, say, their absurdly long necks than their hind quarters. I could've overlooked the lack of tail. Plus I was probably in MY 8th grade year last time I stepped foot in a zoo...You don't come across pictures of giraffes very often either. Dogs, cats, even geckos--they're on commercials, in magazines, on billboards. But you don't see many famous giraffes these days. Nevertheless, I stood my ground. I'm a science teacher. This kind of trivia is supposed to be second nature to me. Jordan and I went back and forth for a while, until I finally bet him a Silly Band that giraffes do, in fact, have tails. I wasn't halfway to my computer before he started faltering in his confidence. "Well, if they DO got tails, they short ones!"

In the end, of course, I triumphed and am now the proud owner of a yellow giraffe Silly Band. Which I wore proudly the whole day. And got complimented on several times.


Tomorrow starts testing, which means I'm done teaching content. There's nothing left to do now but pray. If Jesus can raise a man from the dead, he can supernaturally enlighten my boys' minds with a deep understanding of the complexities of hydrology. Please continue to keep my students in your prayers--especially this Thursday when they test for science.

I leave you with this:
I am now featured on Youtube physically breaking up a fight in my classroom. I'm wearing a hot pink dress and shouting at the boys to "Stop it! RIght now!" I look so pathetic I want to cry. Instead of assisting me, Mike (the biggest guy in class) stood up, got within five feet of us, and began recording the whole affair on his iPhone. In the background you can hear the entire class yelling, "Ms. M!! Don't get in there! You jus' get away or you'll get yo face bashed in!"

I can't help but be a little proud of myself for stepping in and successfully breaking it up, though. Eight months ago, I couldn't have imagined myself responding so confidently (if not pathetically). And no, I will NOT send any of you the link. Peace.