In this post, I will share with you, my sweet, dedicated, and patient readers, the funny occurrences that made a chaotic week seem less stressful...
I love my 6th hour. I could literally write a book (with several volumes) about my 6th hour from last semester. Someday, I will reflect on what I learned, what I laughed at, and the day I almost bawled my eyes out in front of the kids. Someday. For the record, my 6th hour is much tamer (is that even a word?) this semester. They ask thought-provoking questions, make me laugh, and sometimes even seem eager to learn. While talking about parenting on Thursday (in regards to our current novel), one of the students asked when I would be a parent. Normally I'm able to dodge all slightly-inappropriate-but-also-funny questions, but for some reason, I was tongue-tied. I wanted to say something smart like, "At least not for another 9 months," but I feared the repurcussions should I say something of that nature. Instead, I stuttered and mumbled, "Um, oh, uh, not for awhile. Anyway, as I was saying..." I think my face was red. No, I know my face was red. The lasting effects were minimal. Moving on...
I love my 7th hour. They regularly make me laugh. They are also the epitome of a teenager: either hot or cold. Some days I feel like we're all, as they say, "besties," while other days, I fear we will destroy each other before the day ends. On this particular day, the kiddos were energized (a rarity last week) and ready to learn...or so I thought (so I think every day - I tend to be a glass-half-full kind of person). One of my darling students (we will call him Ronaldo) had just had his corn-rows (that is the correct terminology, right??) taken out. His small body seemed almost dwarfed by what now consumed at least 2 square feet of my classroom. Naturally all the students took it upon themselves to point out his newly-formed afro (um, spell check?). While I began hollering out the bell-work, another student continued to talk over me. This particular student (we will call him Lippy...he tends to mimic his for-the-purpose-of-this-story name) kept trying to get Ronaldo's attention. After I realized that I would not win the "people, look at me, I'm most interesting, duh" battle, I paused what I was saying in an effort to focus the kiddos once more. Lippy proceeded to inform me that there was something stuck in Ronaldo's afro. My first thought was: oh this must stop...we must stay focused...no laughing...make them focus!!! However, in an attempt to be human (like I daily remind my students), I decided to laugh (CTL, right Berger/Peterson clan??). Lippy instructed Ronaldo where to reach in his pony-sized afro to effectively retrieve the foreign object. What happened next still bamboozles me: somehow, the alien object was flicked from the afro (15 feet from me) and landed at my feet. While still laughing but desiring to maintain control of the classroom, I thought it would be prudent (and slightly symbolic) to pick up the gum wrapper (how it was lodged in Ronaldo's afro I still don't want to know) and toss it in the trash. (Prudent because it put an end to the event. Symbolic because well, um, uh, it put an end to the event.) The sweet kids then seemed to harness as much English energy as possible and we proceeded with the remaining activities. Some kids said it was almost as funny as when I accidentally cursed at them last semester...another story for another day.
On Friday at 8 am it was announced that MTV's "Made" is coming to WRHS! A roar of cheers and loads of giggles and whispers exploded in room 167. The rest of the hour (and the rest of the day) was full of comments from me such as, "I know you're so excited. It is so exciting. However, we have work to get done today so you won't have homework over the weekend. Please. Focus." Auditions start next Wednesday. This is probably the closest I will ever be to reality TV (unless, that is, I find a way to take several months off from work to participate in the "Amazing Race" - seriously, who doesn't want to do that!?). Oh the anticipation builds...
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