Student: “Are you wearing green because it’s St. Patrick’s Day?”
Student: “What does the green stand for?”
Me: “Avarice, envy, and gangrene.”
Me: “The beautiful, rolling green hills of Ireland.”
Today, I had to take D’Avonte downtown to get a copy of his birth certificate, so he could apply for a post-graduation training program. We were climbing in the school van, and my purse fell over.
Me: “Oh, great, now I have tampons everywhere.”
D’Avonte: “Miss M…you’re still young enough to have babies?”
Me: “Get out of this Goddamn van, right now.”
Ryan: How was your day, today?
Me: Well…I got to ride in the back of a police car, which is about as disgusting as you would think it is.
Ryan: Your life of crime finally caught up with you?
Me: Me, the campus cop, and the Dean of Discipline were chasing a kid who ran away from campus.
Ryan: Did you catch him?
Me: Ten staff members, five private vehicles, three police cars, four miles, and 90 minutes later…yes.
Ryan: Are you ever tempted to just let them run?
Me: After today, if I had it my way, we would stand on the curb, waving, as he takes off.
Ryan: Let him run! BE FREE!
Me: “Find your bliss, Motherfucker!”
Me: “Hey, I need your three sentence summary of the student news.”
D’Avonte: “Ms. M, you KNOW I hate the damn news.”
Me: (teacher face)
Turns in summary…
“They’re talking about Trump and all his bullshit. It’s the same stuff with his bitchass every day. Why do you make me do this?”
For the record, the child is walking the campus in 6″ heels all day…and if you’re not familiar with my blog, the child is a 6’3″, self-identified, drag queen, who comes to high school, dressed for the Milan runway.
D’Avonte: “My feet are killing me.”
Me: (Looking at her feet) “No shit.”
Me: “Every single day of my life, my love, every single day of my life.”
Student: “Paying bills is a giant waste of money.”
A few weeks ago, I broke my toe at work, so I’ve been forced to wear one of those ridiculous boots to protect it while it’s healing.
Student: “How’s your toe?”
Me: “Better, but today, I have this weird burning pain.”
Student: “You should take Adderol.”
Me: “So I can really buckle down and focus on how much it hurts?”
Student: “Oh, sorry, I meant Demerol.”
Me: “We’re going to need to have a conversation about your knowledge of prescription medications, one of these days.”
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.”
Me: “How many teachers are pregnant at your school?”
Me: “Geez…sounds like there’s something in the water.”
Xavier: “Sounds like a lot of teachers are having unprotected sex.”
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…