Heartbroken

The grass withers,

the flowers fade.

But the Word of God is forever.

Je ne veux pas travailler.

My mom said the tone of my blog has become increasingly morose. As has my morale. I have been suppressing the urge to physically hit children for about a month now. It's okay; it's normal this time of year.

Thankfully, today we went on a field trip where teacher responsibility was minimal. The kids attended a financial literacy day (which was probably more beneficial to me than them). I they learned the difference between equity investments and fixed income investments, bonds, CDs, stocks etc. They even wrote pretend checks and created a budget where they had to invest a certain percentage of their earnings. The kids were pretty blasé about it; I, on the other hand, was furiously taking notes and starting to sweat fretting about my imaginary mortgage.

Unbeknownst to me, our princiPAL had deemed this pre-spring break week "Jeans Week." I showed up in dress, a blazer and heels. I never wear heels to school. My boys noticed and gave me HELL.

"Why you trynna be all tall? So you can finally look down at us 'steada up!"

"Ayyyeee, talkin' bout 'I'm a Barbie girl in a Barbie world!'"

"Yeahh Ms. M come in wearin' dem heels...she trynna pick her up a BANKER today! She on the prowl."

Am I that transparent?

These kids are WILIN' out, and the next three days are going to be hell, but on Friday, you can't tell me NOTHIN'.

Why, you ask? (listen to this while reading the rest of this post)

I'm boarding this:

And heading here:

Et puis, je fume.

Peace out, homies.

club WACK

I introduced the cell yesterday. In an attempt to make taking beaucoup notes on beaucoup organelles more exciting, my entire lesson was built on comparing the cell to a club. I told them we were going on an illegal field trip; I was taking a bunch of underage kids to a nightclub. Naturally, they were excited (until they realized we weren't even leaving the classroom). I played the best current clubby song I could think of (not gonna lie, I like it too) and spastically flicked the lights on and off. Once I started dancing, it was over: "Mannnnn dis Club WACK!!"

Don't let them fool you. They loved it.

"The nucleus is like the club owner because it controls what goes on in the cell." We discuss what kind of club we'd create if we were an owner. "The mitochondria produce the cell's energy. What in a club provides the energy for the crowd?"

They think for a moment. "Awwww Ms. M I GOTCHU! IT'S DEM BIG-BOOTIED STRIPPERS!!"

Well I was going to say "the DJ" but that works just as well.

"The Endoplasmic Reticulum moves materials throughout the cell. What in the club gets people moving?"

"DAT GREY GOOSE!!"

"Nawww dat PATRON!"

"Mannn dat's dat HENNY!"

"Ms. M know all about dat! She be sippin' dat stuff on Fridays soon as she pull outta the parkin' lot! She be gettin' LOOSE after teachin' all these bad kids!"

They had me rolling by the end of class.

Then.

After lunch I told a group of four boys twice that we were leaving the lunchroom. Twice they ignored me.

"Okay, I'm not trying to wait on anyone, so let's put it this way: If you're not in my room by the time I shut my door, I'm calling security and writing you all up for being out of area."

They stared blankly at me. Ten minutes later they strolled through my door.

"Oh no. OH no." I said, handing them them their referrals. Armani (freshly back from boot camp) took his, ripped it up and threw it on the floor. I raised my eyebrows.

"FUCK this class. G'on and give me ten days and Imma tell you what Imma do for those ten days. Imma spend them smoking weed and planning my revenge. And at the end of those ten days--guess what? I'm coming back for you."

I looked up at him. "What do you need ten days for? No time like the present. Whatever it is you're thinking about doing, go ahead and do it now." He stared at me. "Yeah that's what I thought. You're not going to do anything. Get out."

"Where you want me to go?"

"When you walk out the front doors, take a right or a left on States; you can't go straight."

"Imma tell 'em you said I could leave."

"Tell them whatever the hell you want."

HAPPY FRIDAY!!!

don't read if you're easily grossed out.

Sperm, table-humping, stink bombs...I don't know why things have been so disgusting in my classroom lately.

Oh yes I do.

I teach ninety 14-year-old boys.

ANYWAYS. Today we had to administer a field test. It wasted class time and was a pain in the ass to keep them silent for that long. They didn't know the material, so they spent most of the allotted time forcing out audible farts to liven the mood. Charming.

Fourth block rolled around and Armani asked to step outside "to fart."

"Nope. You like to wander too much. Just let it rip; you won't be the first today."

Armani grimaced, furrowed his brow, lifted up one side and let out one of the most disgusting poots I have ever heard.

"UMM. That sounded...wet," I told him, horrified. "Like you really might need to go check your pants." Armani threw his head back and just laauuuuggghhhed.

Five minutes later, Anthony interrupted me. "Ms. M! I can go to the bathroom?"

"No."

"But I gotta gooo!"

"No."

"But my doo-doo is comin' out!!"

My face was now white as a sheet and my overly-sensitive gag reflex was flaring up. "DEAR JESUS WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE TEACHING ALL TEENAGE BOYS!?" I prayed out loud.

"I don't know but it musta been BAD," Anthony responded. "Dis worse than jail time!"

I pondered that for a second....

"But forreal Ms. M, my butthole gettin' tired."

Insert Foot

I reaaallllly wanted them to know the four functions all life forms carry out. I really did. I made them repeat them several times, I made them write it down twice, then I had the brilliant idea to make them stand up and do a motion for each function.

Good thing I can think on my feet so well!!!

1. GROW! (we stretch our arms tall)

this is going quite nicely

2. RESPOND TO STIMULI! (we pretend to touch a hot stove and jerk our hand off)

damn i'm clever

3. ORGANIZED BY CELLS! (we pretend to neatly stack papers)

a stretch, but it works...

4. REPRODUCE!

oh shit....what have i done? no turning back now......

I stand uncomfortably still at the front of the classroom, praying I can quickly distract them. Twenty-eight pairs of eyes stare expectantly at me. They let a split second elapse...then proceed to enthusiastically hump the desks.

Kill me now.