Skip to main content

A Giant Sigh

When most people hear that I am a middle school teacher, they sigh and give me that look. You know the one that goes along with, "You are such a trooper." Yes, middle school sucks. It sucked when I went through it, and that part has not changed.

No one tells you before you walk in the classroom door that most of your day will be spent wrangling and pleading and praying that you don't say something that will be misconstrued by a parent or media outlet. I usually find myself laughing sometime during the day about what comes out of my mouth in the course of those interesting 7 periods.

Here's some of what I said today:

"Please don't kick boys in the knees. Ladies don't act like that."

"Yelling is only acceptable at sporting events, to stop someone from running into traffic, or when someone is beating you to death."

"I guess I just like them better. What kind of question is that?"

"I asked you to please stop talking. I didn't say anything about acting obnoxious and ignoring me."

"These excuses are getting really lame. You can come up with something better than this."

"Wow. You guys are, like, really bad at this whole voting thing."

"Um, I asked you stand in a circle, not in a weird polygon."

"Hmph. You know, if you're going to cheat, you really need to work on your technique. I'm not supposed to be able to see it."

It makes for a interesting day. Fortunately, I'm laughing today.

Comments

I love it! I've often thought people should log those statements we never dreamed would come out of our mouths. Just to keep us laughing.
frabjouspoet said…
How many times do you say something and realize that you sound like your mother? That's my favorite.

Popular posts from this blog

Pardon the Interruption

It's 10:00. My race clothes are laying across the top of the dog crate. I've already consumed my all-natural sleep aid. The alarm is set for 4:45 in the morning. I should be sleeping, but my mind is spinning at an unnatural rate. Remember this poem ? The subject of that poem married just a few weeks ago, and I just finished looking through his wedding photos. It's a strange feeling. Not one of loss. Or Regret. Or even wistfulness. I'm thoroughly happy for both of them in a way that will seriously not make sense to most of the people I know. I suppose there will always be an odd sense of knowing in a situation like this. I know the feel of those lips. I've seen that look in his eyes. What I felt for him was real and pure and drives the feeling of satisfaction that is currently overwhelming me. I love knowing that he's in love--even if it's not with me. I even saved my favorite photo to my computer because the image stirred something in me that needs to be sti...

On Muchness

A dear friend confessed to me last night that he had lost his muchness and found it again. I confessed the same and even admitted the ridiculous series of events that recently sapped my own muchness. That little confession seemed to do wonders. It's so easy to fall out of step with myself. In fact, I do it quite naturally. Growing up in a Christian home, I took to heart the instructions to love my neighbor more than I love myself. Oh, wait! I just checked the scripture. "Love your neighbor as yourself." I may have been doing this the wrong way. I ended 2010 with the resolution that I would no longer make decisions out of fear. I am starting 2011 with the resolution to make decisions based on what I want. I've struggled with this because I've always believed that I should consider the needs and wants of others before my own. I'd like to think this is a valiant approach, but the truth is that it only leads to martyrdom...and I don't think I was given the opp...

TMI and Tidal Waves

As usual, it's been a busy week around these parts, and none of my activities this week involved running. If my grandmother could hear at the moment and complete a sentence without hacking up a lung, she'd ask me what's wrong. I'd have to confess that my eczema has flared up in this oh-so-cold-there's-ice-on-my-car south Florida weather, and my skin is so itchy that I have bruises up and down my limbs from all the scratching I've been doing. There are some days I'm relieved to know men with calloused hands. (Before you take that last comment too seriously, remind yourself that I am writing this at 9:30 on a Friday night.) Anyway... I met up for coffee with someone last night who proved to stoke my creative juices. I'll spare you the details of the conversation, but I did have to stop him mid sentence to point out that that particular conversation will most definitely become part of "La Isla Encontrada." Fortunately, he agreed to it, and I fully...