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.