Ahh, the Smell of Prepubescent Love

Teeny, tiny, 6th grade boy: "What's your boyfriend do, Miss J?"
Me:"He's an artist."
Boy: "Yeah? You should have him come here one time, and when he does, I'll beat him up and take you for my own!"
Boys in group: Erupt with frantic, red-faced laughter.

Oh, dear sweet violets.


Taken from one journal entry.

"Miss J, you are the best. I wish I could see you every day. Even on Saturday and Sundays. Those days are sad without you."


From another journal entry.

"Well, Miss J. You don't totally suck."


Ahh, young love.