Colonel Colossal Returns

A couple years ago, one student remarked in her notebook that her svelte and stunning brunette student teacher had one positively startling quality: her fat ass.

The student teacher? Me. The girl? Mortified that I called her out. The resolution? Public tears of humiliation from the student, secret tears of laughter from the teacher.

Today, that teacher returns. Only now, she's navigated the trenches, she's bounded over the trip wire, she's vaulted over the minefield. She's ready for anything. Put on your hard hat, baby. Here we go.

The time? 3:15 pm. The place? Pod 4. The occasion? Thursday Girl's Club. There we were, building confidence, talkin' smack (or... you know... s'math...) , when suddenly, a round of fiendish giggling erupts from the troops. Battle clad as always, I raise my eyebrows and shoot a withering, dart like look. Daring them to giggle once again.

A wave of whispers, hands cupped to neighboring ears, the sound of rose petals falling on cellophane, of crinkling wax paper, of water softly falling. But even with bionic hearing... I can not make out the words. The fearless sergeant folds.


"Okay, okay. I give. What's so darn funny?" I bark.

More whispers and giggles.

Then, hesitantly, "Do I want to know?"

Replies Princess Valeria. "OHH, yes. Yes, you do."

The teacher breaks. "Okay then. Spill it, sistah."

"Well," Giggles starts, then cracking herself up, buries her wide white smile behind her hands.

"You tell it!"

Princess Valeria continues. "Well, you know what Ruben said? Ruben said... that you have...."

Well, well?

"A... BIG BUTT!"

Laughter fills the room like mustard gas. I nearly wet my pants I laugh so hard. All 120 pounds shakes likes a seismograph in action.

Fast forward 2300 Hours>>>
Time? 2:15. Place? The kidney table. The subject? Social studies. The battle pants: On.

"So, guys. I heard something really hilarious last night. You wanna hear?"

"Yeah!" the chorus replies.

"Apparently, according to Ruben, I have a huge butt."

A deadly nanosecond of silence. The deadly stench of fear (or is that BO?)
You can almost hear it. The thought on everyone's mind: Oh shit. Is she pissed?

And then I grin. Instantly the class morphs into a troop of howler monkeys.
Puppy scurries to Ruben, yipping madly, eyeing up his pant leg and licking his chops.

And Ruben? Ruben is scarlet. He punctuates the laughter with defiant screaming: What?! WHAT?! WHO TOLD YOU THAT?!

The class turns their teary eyes back to me.

"Sorry Ruben. That's classified information. If I told you...well you know. And I have just the tool to do it."

I point at my derriere.
The class explodes a second time.

Colonel Colossal? Victorious again.

Melodic Silence

Most of the time, 615 sounds more akin to a zoo than a library.

For example: I have one seriously ADHD kid I refer to as "Puppy." Puppy scampers around my room on all fours, comes when I call, and more often than not... woofs. (He is, I should note, housebroken.) Puppy also sits nicely and receives pats on the head and cookies when he can be still and listen for longer than 5 minutes.

I am not kidding.

The room is also starting to smell like a zoo. The "budding adolescents" smell significantly less flowery than the term might suggest. Instead, the Phoenix sun melts their hides, turning the air into something reminiscent of the barn at high noon.

There are constant hoots, hollers, monkey sounds, smooching noises. You want to teach onomatopoeia? Stop on by.

Today? I wanted some quiet. I was tired. For once, I just wanted to pretend like I was in some middle class suburb somewhere, with perfect students in perfect rows with perfect grammar and perfect, robotic smiles.

But I'm not mad. I know my limits. I know there still has to be something zany going on to keep their attention. So this is what I said:

"Okay. Here's the deal. Today, I want quiet. Total, still, absolute, gorgeous quiet. With one exception. The only, and I do mean only, thing that should permeate this room... should be..."

"Your voice?"

"No."

"Us breathing?"

"No. There will be no breathing."

(At this, a uniform gasp as several students begin the process of becoming blue)

"No, the only sound I want to hear... is Edgar singing."

For Edgar, you see, likes to pretend he is an opera singer. (Viking helmet, flaxen braids, buxom as all get out... the whole package.)

At this, Edgar's eyes lit up, and from the place where vicious comments flow like molten lava, came a surprising sound; a high pitched, smooth tone, even and clear.

"Laaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

No vibrato, no old-lady warble. And no adolescent voice-changing cracks. (Do I dare insert a Vienna Boys Choir joke in here?)

And so, for 50 minutes, I had my wish. The students worked hard, and randomly, every few minutes, came a note of glorious clarity.

"Laaaa!"

The class would laugh ever so quietly for a few seconds... and then, my perfect silence remained.

At the end of the hour, all of the work was turned in, and Edgar commented,

"You know? I think I should do this for the talent show."
"You know? I think maybe you're right."

615's very own Pavarotti.

P.s.

Okay, for the record... I have no idea who reads this thing. Or if anyone other than my mother does. So, if you could, could you leave me a wee note? I like to know who makes up my constituency. ;)

Big Flooding Fun

Question: What is best the best thing about studying ancient civilizations?
Answer: Recreating.... AND DESTROYING THEM!

Today I gave the (qualified) little rascals:
2 aluminum pans
two types of dirt
4 index cards
a handful of straws
10 inches of tape
two handfuls of pebbles


They recreated a stretch of China's Yellow River bed, then built levees on either side. After that, when they were certain of their brilliance, I sprinkled tiny bits of blue construction paper on the "land."

And then? I dumped a glass full of water into their water canal. WHOOSH! OH GOD! MISS J NOOOOOO!

HAHAHAH! DESTRUCTION!

The test? If the paper shifted or got wet, their levee failed, their crops flooded, their homes were lost, and everybody died horrible deaths.
If not? They saved the world.

The best part was hearing their discussion afterwords.
"The topsoil worked well, but the land that was sand was a problem-- all of the water was held back at first, but then it sank under the levee and was sucked up by the sand."
"How could we fix that?"
"We have to contain the water better.... or make sure we don't build our houses on sand."


Then,
"Miss J, you were right. Today was way fun."
"What'd I tell you? If you work hard, that's what happens."
"I guess we have to trust you, huh?"
"It's not a bad plan."

Updog

Inspired by the American version of The Office, I had to try a joke out on my kids.....

(Sitting down at a table full of smartasses)
"Wow, Devin. You...kind of smell like updog."
"WHAT?!"
"You know, updog."
"What the heck is that?"
(well, shit. This joke isn't going to work... but I'm going to screw with his head for as long as I can....)
"What the heck is what?"
"What you just said?"
"What did I just say?"
"MISS J! For real. What is it?"
"What is what?"

Soon, other students start chiming in, and it becomes a game like 20 questions.
"Is it like puke?"
"Does it come out the anus?"
"Is it bad?"
"Is it wet dog?"
"Is it worse than Edgar's singing?"
"OH! OH! I got it. Its a BOWEL OBSTRUCTION!"


And finally....
Adrian: Updog? What's updog?
Me: Not much, what's up with you?

I throw my head back and laugh hysterically.
Adrian just looks at me.
"Seriously, Miss J. What is it?"

Oh god. This may take a while....