Inner Marshmallow

Every morning, I can't get the kids out of my room. In Phoenix, kids weren't allowed into the building until their classes started, but here, they are stuck in the building. So, instead of hanging out in the commons, what do a ton of them decide to do every morning? Annoy me. With effortless enthusiasm.

Now, anyone who knows me at all knows that I am the antethesis of a morning person. I am a zombie. I make groaning noises.  I don't like loud noises or bright lights. I don't even turn my classroom lights on, but rely on the natural light pouring in from windows I can't blind. I once wrote a warm up labeled 1. 2. 4. and didn't realize it until a student pointed it out. I am a bad listener. Small motor skills don't work. I can't open a Gatorade bottle. It's just bad news bears all around.

Yeah, I know this makes me look like I have a hangover every morning, but that's not it. I just hate life in the morning. As a person who needs 9 hours of sleep to be happy, perpetually getting 6 is brutal. As a person who functions best late at night, having to be perky in the morning is impossible.

This morning, I was making my normal pig-foraging-for-truffles noises while trying to set up my day, while trying to listen to 10 teen conversations. They suddenly got loud and started talking over each other and I slumped over my desk.

"Arghhhhhh, you are harshing my mellow!" I said.

One student, who I shall call Tris, says: Guys! Quiet down. You are busting her marshmallow.
Me: No-- what I mean is--
Alanna: Ohh, I could bring you in a new marshmallow?
President: You want a marshmallow?
Me: I don't want a marshmallow. What I want is--
Tris: Her marshmallow is broken.
President: How do you break a marshmallow?

Me: ARGHHHHH!!!!!

Tris: I think it's an inner marshmallow.

Now, how do they know that beneath this rough exterior I am an INNER MARSHMALLOW? I am slipping.

My favorite kid.....

Evan, my Ethiopian kid is hilarious. He's super smart, takes all my crap exceedingly well, and often throws it back to me. 99.9% of the time, he knows where the line is. This makes him a fun student to have in class-- he helps me make the environment fun.

So, the other day, I wanted to thank him. So, between classes, I said....

Me: Evan, you are my faaaavorite kid..... to pick on.
Evan: What?! That's insulting.
Me: What?! I said you were my favorite kid!
Evan: No, you said I was--
Me: Did I or did I not say you were my favorite kid?
Evan: Yeah, but--
Me: So, how can you possibly be insulted by that?
Evan: You said to pick--- YOU'RE DOING IT RIGHT NOW!! ARGHHHH!!!!


Hahahahahahahaha!!!!

God, I'm a jerk.

Affection by way of Torment

Here's what I know: in order to manage teens, most of the time you've got to get them to laugh. So, if a kid is starting to really drive me bonkers, I am forced to get creative. 

In the middle of class one day, I was helping a student in the back of the room. From the far front corner, this hilarious student starts calling me. Miss J, Miss J! Hold on, Evan, I tell him. I'm with another kid. I'll be right there. He calls again. MISS J! So, of course, I hold my index finger up at him as if to say ONE MINUTE!

A second later he screams. My first name.

You have got to be kidding me.

The class went silent, all staring at me for a reaction. I slowly ninja-walked over to the side of the room and grabbed a bagged mink we'd dissected earlier in the year. Evan, as it turns out, is totally grossed out by the mink. I started walking toward him. "Excuse me? What did you just say?"

Evan's eyes got huge. "AWW GAWD NO!!! NOT THE MINK!" I accelerated, moving toward him faster and faster. Evan ran into the corner, mink still feet away.

"I'M SORRY! I WENT TOO FAR!! I WENT TOO FAR!!! AW GAWD! I'M SORRY! NEVER AGAIN!" Evan's body pressed against the corner of the room, hands held up defensively.

I nodded, and dropped the mink (still bagged) at his table. "I forgive you."

This is how I deal with kids. I chase them with a foam axe I got from Target for a dollar during breaks. If they're naughty, I might threaten them that they'll have to sit by the mink pile if they keep talking. (And if they're Evan, they'll probably end up there). I make a lot of over the top, ridiculous faces. This is nothing new. I've been acting like a child my whole life. The thing is-- most of the time it works, and the better you know your kids, the more likely you'll be able to come up with something that'll stop the behavior that's driving you nuts.


One kid, who I call Marvin the Martian (during the first week of school, he kept making noises like he was getting some sort of transmission from outer space), is a great singer. The problem? He. Never. Stops. It's so bad that after that last class leaves, whatever he was singing gets stuck in my head for hours. So, I have to reroute him.

Marvin: (Singing while doing warm up.)
Me: Marvin, you've got blue marker on your forehead. (I gesture to my eyebrow)
Marvin: What?? (starts rubbing eyebrow)
Me: No, up more. A little to the left. Oops! Went too far. Down a little.... theeeere you go.

Now Marvin is furiously rubbing at his face. But he is utterly, completely, silent. None of the other kids, by the way, are paying me any attention. That is, until I suddenly burst into childlike laughter, and start hopping up and down because my prank worked.

It dawns on Marvin that I was screwing with him the whole time, and he grins and shakes his head. Every time I do something like this to him, he just says in a professorial voice, "You're something else, Miss J. You're reallllly something else."

Indeed.


I know the only thing I should care about is test scores and achievement, but more often than not, its when I'm being a prankster that I get them on my team. These are some of the moments I'm going to miss.

Bomb Threats and Butt Scratches

I always miss the good stuff! And by good stuff, I mean Times when Crazy Shit Goes Down. Crazy shit makes for the best stories.

Yeah, hearing President say, "Miss J, you're my favorite teacher because you make us think deeper," is awesome. Hearing another student say, "Miss J, I wish I was in your class because you make your kids do the heavy lifting-- you don't just tell us what to think, and then make us practice it,"also rocks. Seeing them DESTROY their district benchmark test, with an overall average into the 80s? Loved celebrating their success. Having my kids come in when they know I'm not teaching because they just. need a dose. of therapy. Or Mama Bear Tough Love. They need to help me make a plan with them, because they know that just not eating is stupid, and not healthy. They need to learn how to communicate with their boyfriend, because just stomping off in a tantrum isn't working. They are furious because teachers punish and assume and don't listen, and they know that while I will sometimes AGREE with the teacher they're furious at, at least I will hear them out first. And then talk about how they can get their respect back. All of this is great and I love it all.

But, Toto, we are not in Phoenix anymore.

At my old school, you couldn't HELP but be right in the thick of it. But here? Where was I when the weird little white kid chased around two other kids with his pocketknife? Where was I when one of my favorite co-workers TACKLED a kid, who was frothing at the mouth, red with fury? Where was I when a kid was cuffed by the police and taken away after joking about planting a bomb in the student union? How come I haven't caught ANY kids making out like bandits in the bathrooms?

How come my lovable disaster, (let's call her Desiree), doesn't slather Vicks Vapor Rrub all over her face and neck, and then have serious trouble because it's making her eyes water, and she can't see anything..... in MY CLASS? How come she doesn't scoot on the floor like a dog with wormy butt problems .... IN MY CLASS? How come she doesn't rip off her shoe, throw her foot on the table, and start digging in her toenails.... in my class?

 I mean, I know what I'm asking is terrible. But, I could use a few more great stories before I say "See ya later, teaching!"