Is this bad?

The highlight of my day:

Watching Devonte Jefferson take a lunch tray full of macaroni and cheese to the face.

He pissed off the wrong girl and paid for it. Apparently, he had thrown his bread on her tray to get on her nerves. It had worked. Now, noodles and cheese sauce poured down his glasses and cheeks and rested in the folds of his plump neck. If I could have seen his eyes, I'm they were wide with shock. I turned on my heel so no one could see me laugh.

All right, that sounds terrible. Does this make it better? Devonte is the biggest bully ever. He is so mean, especially to my Hispanic kids, my disabled kids and my gay kids. NOT OKAY. I've tried to turn him in to administration for months, but nothing he did was severe enough in their eyes. Until this "food fight." Apparently, we can make fun of people's race and call kids "faggots," but tossing a yeast roll across the table is a no-no.

Whatevs. Bye-bye, Devonte! See you in ten days! Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!!

Side note. I really love my boys, despite the tone of this post. I'm starting to realize how much I'm going to miss them when this is over. I think it is easier to love them this year because I don't get as frustrated with them. I already know the worst it can be, so I let things go more easily now. The ones that are still little and cute, I want to scoop them up and hug them to death. The ones that are big and bad and way too old for their age...well, I want to scoop them up and hug them to death too.

I watched their basketball game yesterday and screamed 'til I was hoarse; I was proud of them like they were my own boys. When someone would ask who just made the goal (shot? I'm not a basketball person?), I'd puff my chest and and answer, "Khalil. He's one of mine!" They'd make quick eye contact with me from the court, then act like they didn't see. But they did. I know because even though they are waaayyy too cool for school in that moment, the second they walk into my classroom the next day they are little kids again.

"Ms. M did you see that rebound??"

"Ms. M you saw me when I blocked that shot!?"

"You gon' be there again Thursday?"

I wish they'd keep that little kid face on all day instead of the grown face they assume most of the time. I like it much better.

Staff Christmas Party

"Umm, so what are you wearing to the staff Christmas party?" I asked Mrs. M after school on Friday.

"You're GOING to the staff Christmas party??" She responded.

"You're NOT!?!" In my mind, there was no question.

Fact: black people are way more fun than white people. I realized this in high school, where I was actually a minority student. Our core-study classes were pretty segregated, unfortunately, but I found myself much preferring the company in my elective classes. Who else had the balls to lock the ornery Mrs. W in her lab closet or offer Mrs. L weed in exchange for an A?

In college, I found myself missing that culture; I was surrounded by a pretty homogenous (learned that word last year when I was teaching Chemistry) group. Thankfully, God soon led me straight through the front doors of RMS, where I'm never at a loss. My co-workers are crazy and hilarious and probably some of the most fun people I know. I went to a mid-afternoon jewelry party hosted by Ms. L last year and had more fun than I'd had in months.

Which brings us up to date. I had been looking forward to this party since I got the invitation in my box a month ago and the thought hadn't even crossed my mind that anyone would consider not attending.

"Mrs. M," I said. "When else in your LIFE are you going to have an opportunity to attend a staff party like THIS? I mean, if our co-workers are as fun as they are at work, think about what they'd be like outside of RMS' walls!"

This assumption was confirmed when Mrs. D and Mrs. J stopped me in the hall about 5 minutes later. "Ms. M. We gon' get our husbands to drive us an' we gon' bring enough moonshine for you too, so you'd BETTER be there!! We gon' turn that place OUT!"

"Wouldn't miss it for anything," I said, and meant it. I was actually pissed that I had a tacky Christmas party hosted by TFA friends to attend later that night. I was NOT going to cut this one short.

Ms. D picked me up at 7, and we arrived at the home of Mr. O shortly after. I flung open the door. "The white girls are here!!"

The whole place burst into laughter. "SHE SAID, 'THE WHITE GIRLS ARE HERE!' HAHAHAHAH M, YOU A FOOL!"

"HAHA yeah, but she know she right, though."

As I'd carefully planned, I chose this moment to take out a Bud Light from my clutch and put a camouflage koozy around it. If I was going to represent 50% of the white population there, I was going to take it and run with it. Again, laughter flooded the room. I was a hit!! A novelty, even.

Mrs. J eyed my beer. "She even got a cover for it!! Looks like I came with the wrong folks!"

"Yeah, Mrs. J. You shoulda been rollin' with the white girls!"

"Yeah I shoulda been rollin' with the white girls!! HAHAHAHA!!"

Highlights of the night included but were not limited to:

1. teaching/performing of the Toot it and Boot it dance

2. the women talking about their husbands in ways I cannot repeat because my grandmother reads this blog

3. Mrs. A forcing me to play christmas carols on the piano while Mrs. J sang along

4. our rich, white, usually no-nonsense principal slapping herself on the rear end while the entire staff chanted "GHETTO BOOTY!"

5. a collaborative reciting of "white people rules" vs. "black people rules" (which deserve a post in and of themselves but begin with "I'm very sensitive, please don't make me cry," and "Don't touch my f***ing food," respectively).

I laughed so hard I cried and am still laughing as I sit here recounting it. Most people go to their office party out of obligation; mine was probably the best time I'll have all year.

The other party? Would have probably been fun if I hadn't set the bar so high early in the night. Let's face it, though. It never really stood a chance.

Cameron

Cameron is a mess.

A big, hot mess.

He is soo needy. He has to have my complete attention 100% of the time or he gets moody. He's like that with all teachers; I don't think he gets enough adult attention at home or something.

At the beginning of the school year, I had to pull Cameron aside and have a conversation with him about being appropriate. He liked to call me "sweetie," "baby," etc. and announce to the class what we had done the previous evening or how he had picked out the outfit I had on that day. He thinks he's smooth, but I've yet to see him with any girls on the 500 hall.

Today after school I was grading papers in my room. Cameron flung open the door and was at my desk in a matter of about 2.5 seconds. "Cameron. You're in my female-only zone," I said, holding up my palm and nodding toward the taped-off borders around my workspace. Cameron rolled his eyes and continued to approach me. "You have no conception of personal space. None at all. You're like a shadow, only worse because you talk!"

Cameron began to thumb through the papers on my desk and pick up all of my personal items. "QUIT BEING NOSY! Go back to tutoring. I've already put in my time with you today."

Cameron wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ughhh. Go away." He picked up my scarf and wrapped it around his face.

"Ms. M dis smell good. You always be smellin' good when you first come in. You smell like the mall or sumthin." He fixed the scarf around his neck and began strutting around the classroom teaching the empty classroom in his best Ms. M voice.

"Oh my goodness. Put my scarf down. You are not funny." I said with an ill-disguised laugh. He was now studying my scissors.

"Ms. M can I have a lock of your hair?"

"Whaaatt??? What in the world do you need my hair for?"

"Now see you be axin' too many questions."

"CAMERON THAT IS THE WEIRDEST THING I HAVE EVER HEARD. YOU ARE REALLY STARTING TO FREAK ME OUT AND I NEED YOU TO LEAVE NOW."

Cameron threw my scarf down and huffed toward the door. "Ugh Ms. M. You always be ruinin' things. See here I come tryna be nice to you and develop dat teacher-student relationship. You know where I be feelin' safe to come to you and axe questions and get help with science and axe you on dates!!"

"Ask me on dates?"

"Whoa Ms. M see now I didn't say that, you did. But we can talk about workin' sumthin' out if you want. What's that burnin' smell in here?"

"It's a student that crossed me one too many times. Got on my nerves, so I used him as a lab experiment."

"Ms. M you LITTLE. You can't even lift these lab tables. How you gon' get one of yo students into a beaker??"

"Now see, YOU'RE asking too many questions! Get out of here or you're next!!"

I heard his laughter fading all the way down the hall.

A Day of Hookie in Pictures

hookie.

because i need a break from children of the corn.

and my car wouldn't work yesterday.

and i burned myself during a lab.

and said a bad word in 3rd block.

whoops.

cinnamon rolls. coffees.

bucklies.

christmas-y aromas.

dips on decks.

overly dramatic tvs.

holiday crafts.

Erin was off of work today, and we had so much fun being bums. She was responsible for aforementioned crafts, I just watched and murmured approvingly. She was also responsible for that DANK breakfast spread I woke up to at 9:30. The only time I thought about school or students was when I was eating the corn dip (see paragraph 1, line 2).

Playing hookie wasn't nearly as fun when I was actually IN school! Hope your day was as lovely as mine.

Love, Ms. M

*Thanks, Mrs. S-K M for the wonderful advice!

Oh na na, what's my name?

You know the song.

If you don't, you should. It's my JAM. I was playing it during class ("Whatchu know 'bout some Drake, Ms. M??"), which got us into a discussion on names.

"What's your middle name, Ms. M?"

"Shaniqua."

"No it ain't."

"Yes it is."

"No it ain't."

"Why would I lie about something like that? And why is it so hard to believe?"

This is where my kids started to beat around the bush. They wanted to let me know Shaniqua was not a typical white girl name without bringing up race.

"Well...it just don't FIT you. You know?"

"Tell that to my Mom; she's the one who picked it out. In fact, before my sister was born, I went by Shaniqua."

The looked at each other. Smirked.

"Naww, that is NOT yo middle name. Look at you."

"I can't imagine being named anthing else. Guess I'm just used to it."

"Ms. M. Lemme break it down for you," Anthony offered. He motioned to my Asian kid, Chy Ching. "It'd be like if my name was Anthony 'Ching' Washington."

I shrugged my shoulders. "So? I think that would make for a good name. What's wrong with Anthony Ching?" Chy laughed.

"Ok," Raquon finally gave in. "Ms. M, 'Shaniqua' ain't just a black name. Shaniqua a GHETTO name. It jus' don't...GO."

"What are you talking about Raquon? I'm the original G."

At this point, the class was in hysterics.

"MS. MMMMMMM!!!! NO YOU NOT!!!! YOU LIKE THE WHITEST PERSON WE KNOW!!!!"

"I'm like the ONLY white person you know!" We are all laughing now.

"Whatchu gon' name yo kids?" They want to know. "I bet she gon' name them sumthin' like...sumthin' like 'HEIDI!'"

"Naw, naw she gon' name her son somethin' like 'Connor!'"

They continued with the whitest names they could come up with.

"Landon!"

"Carly!"

"Logan!"

We had seven minutes left of class. I had lost control, had no hope of getting it back and no desire to try. So I just laughed along with them.

TWO POSTS IN ONE AFTERNOON?!?!

I'm going crazy with these posts.

The long and short of it: I had a rough day today. As in, I had to walk outside of the classroom three times to get my composure. If one more child had yelled at me, disrespected me or even gave me a bad look, I MIGHT have done something to get myself fired. I found myself on the verge of tears for only about the 3rd time this year (see, haven't we come a long way!?). Not tears of sadness. Tears of anger and frustration.

Over it.

But then: As I'm standing at my outdoor duty post watching kids walk to the bus lot AKA herding cattle (really rude cattle with attitudes), I quickly realize I should have brought my coat. It is COLD! I clutch my sides and keep the lines moving with violent head nods. De'Queius pauses to tell me goodbye.

"Ms. M! You look freezing! You want my jacket?" He begins to take off his backpack and tug at his sleeves.

"De'Queius, stop! You're going home! You need your jacket!

He continues. "I can just get it tomorrow. You gon' freeze out here!"

I assured him that I was tougher than I looked, but that he was a true gentleman for offering. So sweet. Doesn't take much to make my day at that place!

WHOOPS. My B.

Jeffrey (yes fish sticks Jeffrey) won't stay in his seat in the morning. That's the thing with boys. They always wanna be UP and DOING SOMETHING. I like calm. I feel much more in control of the sitch if all my boys are seated. They could be rolling blunts at their desks and I'd still feel more at ease than I do when they bounce around the room to steal pencils.

I kid. Sort of.

I hate the half hour in the morning where the kids are in my classroom but class hasn't started yet because breakfast is still being served in the cafeteria. None of my boys go to breakfast, but I can't start until the bell has rung. Thus, 25 boys with unfathomable energy for that time of day are held captive in a room where they have no desire to be and nothing to do. Cool.

My blood pressure shoots through the roof before the bell has even rung due to the stress of getting them IN THEIR SEATS. This is what happens when they refuse to comply: I walk in and see Jeffrey (surprise surprise) standing sheepishly in a pile of glass shards AKA today's lab experiment. Annnnnnnnddd I've lost it. "Here we go..." Je'Corey says.

My B #1:

I call Jeffrey's dad after school and tell him how Jeffrey has been lazy ever since he got his arm out of his cast blah blah...still won't do his work, got in the habit of not writing since he was temporarily handicapped, blahblah....uses his classroom to do the OPPOSITE of what I say, doesn't follow directions, broke science equipment BLAH. Jeffrey's dad: "Thanks for calling, I'll definitely have a talk with him."

The next day, Jawon comes up to me third block. This is Jawon.

Yup, my little "GUCCI SWAG" DREADHEAD SHAWTY. I do love the dreads, must admit. But I hate how they shroud his face when it's plastered to his desk as he sleeps all through second block. He won't do much of anything in class except wander. He loves to wander toward the door and think of reasons to walk through it. I get irritated with him, but he's so good natured and goofy-smiley all the time, I can't not like him. Anyways, he approaches me with his usual grin. "You talk to my dad last night?"

"Nope."

"Yeah you did." Grin.

"Oh. Ok. What did I say?"

"I broke some science equipment?"

I clap my hand over my mouth. "Oh my goodness!! I forgot your real name was Jeffrey!! I must have put your dad's number in my phone at the beginning of the year! I called the wrong Jeffrey's dad!!"

Jeffrey shook his dreads back and forth. "Mann, Ms. M. You 'bout ruined my Christmas!"

"And your dad must think I'm crazy talking about your arm being in a cast!" I said.

"Well...it was in a cast like a long time ago. Like in fourth grade." (??)

"I'll call him back and tell him wrong Jeffrey. You've broken no science equipment--you'd actually have to be awake to do that!"

Jawon grins again. "Yeahhhh you can leave off dat last part!"

My B #2:

Get ready. This is bad.

Wednesdays are our staff meetings. We rotate bringing snacks by grade level. Yesterday afternoon, the thought crossed my mind that it might be 8th grade's turn, so I sent out a mass email to the entire 8th grade staff and administration:

Is it our turn for snacks tomorrow? I'm not really sure but I feel like we haven't done it in forever. GOOD THING IT'S PAYDAY!!

Went to the Teet (Sorry, non-Carolinians. That's my term for our major grocery store chain, Harris Teeter), bought some chips and salsa. Checked my school email hours later and found several replies:

Yes, it was our turn. Thanks for the reminder. What is everyone bringing? I'm bringing chips and salsa. I'm bringing chips and dip. I'm bringing chips. I'm bringing cookies. I'm bringing chips and dip what are you bringing?

I respond:

Whoops. Just now checking this, but I already went to the grocery store and I, too, brought Tostitos and salsa. Looks like we'll have CHIPS AND DIP ON DECK!!!

Well, that's what I meant to type. What I ACTUALLY sent:

Whoops. Just now checking this, but I already went to the grocery store and I, too, brought Tostitos and salsa. Looks like we'll have CHIPS AND DICK ON DECK!!!

I have nothing more to say for myself. The End.