Let That Stew, Kid

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Me: “I really need some Christmas pencils.”

Student: “You should just ask Santa.”

Me: “That probably wouldn’t work because I’m permanently on the naughty list for an incident in ought-eight.”

Student: …..

So Much For Telling My Kids the Truth

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Me: “How many teachers are pregnant at your school?”

Xavier: “Four.”

Me: “Geez…sounds like there’s something in the water.”

Xavier: “Sounds like a lot of teachers are having unprotected sex.”

Me: …..

They Don’t Make Enough Soap To Deal With This.

Bobby: “Miss M, Miss M, I got a tattoo!”

Me: “Seriously?”  (sigh)  “Let me see it.”

Bobby: (lifts pant leg, where he has “MOB” on his thigh)

Me: “MOB?  Like the Mob?  Like you’re a mobster?”

Bobby: “No, it’s ‘M. O. B.’  It stands for ‘Money Over Bitches’.”

Me: (pause) “Bobby…you don’t have any money…or bitches.”

Bobby: “Yeah, but I’m going to get things.”

Me: “If by ‘things’, you mean hepatitis, then, yes, you are going to get things.”

***Let’s not even get started on the fact that Bobby is a 14-year-old freshman, or that he got this tattoo from some dude he met at the park.  And, yes, I called his mother, and no, she didn’t care.  Sigh…

And, Yes, I Am Going To Teach…I’m Just Whining.

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Me: I’m too tired to teach tomorrow, I think I’ll just show them a movie.

Ryan: How about Frozen?

Me: How about Mommy Dearest?

Ryan: Good call, it would make all the parents look good.

Me: Today’s lesson: Perspective.

Ryan: They’ll also learn important life lessons like “Clean your plate.”

Me: And, “No, you DON’T need all those birthday presents.”

Ryan: And, “You can’t beat Mommy at swimming, but she can beat you…with everything in the house.”

Me: So much better than Disney.

This Is What I Live With Every Day.

My son’s science teacher did a back-to-school assignment with some “Getting To Know You” questions.  This is what Xavier put…because of course he did.  *sigh*

Terrified Of What She Will Say When She Brings The Grade Up One Letter

As some of you know, I do volunteer work with LGBT youth after work.  Last week, one of my girls, who constantly cracks me up, came in SUUUUUPER pissed off.

Me: “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Maddy: “I’m getting a D in Algebra.”

Me: “Oh, that sucks.  I’m sorry.”

Maddy: “Ironic isn’t it?”

Me: “How?”

Maddy: “I’ve made it very clear that I want nothing to do with ‘the D’, and here I have one fucking me in math.”

Me: *snort*

CLOCK! I Said Clock, Dammit!

Whilst teaching Language Arts and doing a dictation exercise, where they have to write a series of sentences given to them orally.  (Reminder: My kids have learning disabilities and are below grade level in reading…)

Me: “Robert needed to have his deck scrubbed before the event.”

D’Avonte: (snort)

Me: “What is your problem?”

D’Avonte: (laughing)

Me: “His DECK…he needed his DECK scrubbed.”

 

I Think It’s Safe To Say I Won’t Be Vicariously Attending Prom

 

(A series of texts during the Spring Formal I was chaperoning last night.)

Ryan: Did you bring your ruler, so you can measure if there’s room for the Holy Spirit?

Me: If I sent you pictures of the way these girls were dressed, you’d send Morgan to a convent before she hits puberty.  I need a yard stick.

Ryan: What is your exact job at this thing, if they’re letting them in half-naked?

Me: It seems to be me walking around, using a flashlight as a method of birth control.

(Thirty minutes later.)

 

Me: Goddammit! I was right in the middle of the throng, and a fucking Beyonce song came on…

Ryan: That’s going to be the weirdest Worker’s Comp claim in the history of man.

Me: So…much…flailing…

(An hour later…)

Me: We should have made a High School Dance Bingo card for this thing.

Ryan: Has their been an awkward dance battle, yet?

Me: Check. And now two guys have their ties tied around their head.

Ryan: That’s a corner piece. You’re one girl crying in the corner, from a Bingo.

(five minutes later)

Me; BINGO!!!

Ryan: Congrats. The prize is that you have to call her mother.

Me: Fuck!

I Know…I Shouldn’t Be Feeding This Behavior.

Whence your 16-year-old texts you from class…

Caolinn: Can I get my belly button pierced next winter?  Pleeeeeease?

Me: Shouldn’t you be in class?  WTH is going on at that school?

Caolinn: I’m in choir.  It’s a joke class.

Me: Well, I think we’ve established why you have a B.

Caolinn: She’s literally spelling out choir terms.  She just spelled singing.  Would you be mad if I jumped out a second story window to get out of this, because she just spelled ‘choir’?

Me: They’re your legs, but I’m not wiping your ass for you, so take that into consideration.

Caolinn: She just spelled ‘soprano’.  WTF!?

Me: Mark my words…’alto’ is next.  Wait for it.

Caolinn: Winner!

Me: I think we can agree that no one is winning in this scenario.

Caolinn: Truth.

We All Know This Guy…And Someday He’s Going To Drive A Very Big Truck

Xavier: “There’s this kid, Luke, in our class, and he’s such a jerk.  He’s constantly starting fights with people, but he’s the smallest kid, so people can’t beat him up because they’d get into trouble.”

Me: “Well, maybe the reason why he’s always starting fights is because he’s so much smaller, and he’s feeling insecure.  It can’t be fun being the smallest boy in the seventh grade.”

Xavier: “But then he shouldn’t TRY to make people mad all the time!”

Me: “Think about how it would feel being him, when everyone’s getting bigger, and you’re still small.  Put yourself in his shoes.”

Liam: (whispering) “Yeah, Xavier…put yourself in his teeny tiny shoes.”