Just Laugh

People. I am slammed. Totally working all the time. My union rep 'job' is a helluva lot of work (in a contract year after the levy failed and our district staff has lost twenty five percent of its teachers). Getting ready for the holiday season at WM's shop, getting my house and yard ready for winter, getting ready to do all the fix up stuff we should have been doing when I was in school, and teaching two new preps is whipping my ass. Just wait until Christmas season finally starts and my training cranks up a notch. But that's ok. Because I'm insane and thinking of adding a mix of crossfit and krav maga classes to my mix. Ya know. In my spare time. Seriously, people. What the holy hell is wrong with me?? Damn good thing I channel this dysfunction into good things instead of booze and crack and cheap hooker men.

I moved this year from 7th grade to 8th grade again, which means I haven't taught the same subject 2 years in a row since my return to public school teaching 3 years ago. But this has created this magical situation where I have most of the same kids I had last year. And I have them for 2 hour blocks. An hour of Language Arts and an hour of Social Studies (my staff went from 34 staff members down to 20... we are being creative, people). The kids know me. They know what I expect and the relationship and trust is pretty much already there.

I tease the kids daily about how they clearly didn't pray enough over the summer if they had to have me two years in a row....

We're doing a unit on horror and they like that it breaks up the boring crap I have to teach (which I tell them is the boring crap I have to teach) like vocab and paragraph structure. I know, I know. You're already wondering how someone who forgoes any kind of real grammar in leui of the use of ..... to convey the rhythm of talk can teach this crap. I dunno. I just told you I tell my kids its crap. Go find me in English teacher hell in 60 years....

I'm having a lot of fun with these kids. I'm already Mama to most of the new kids even though I didn't tell them to call me that. I've already had some white lady call the principal because she doesn't want her kid to call me that (um, so tell your kid not to... she can feel free to call me Dr. Err...it IS my name). Really. I got 4 white kids. Way to be uncomfortable lady! At least all four haven't called. Funny that her kid calls me this anyway.

There is something that feels right standing in the hall, getting DAP from some hood and hearing, "'sup Mama."

We're having fun with convos like this:

Knucklehead 1 and 2 are boys. Um, I don't mean males... I mean close friends. Knucklehead 3 just don't get some stuff. The class is reading Legend of Sleepy Hollow (we also rewrote it in our own words...the kids did amazing jobs and dang, it was funny). I walk up in time to see Kh 2 and 3 getting a little loud with each other.

Err: What is wrong with you boys?
3: He's calling me Bobby (lets say boy's name is Robert).
Err: So knock it off (to 2)
2: He's calling Isreal Izabod (like Ichabod).
3: He did it first!!! (pointing to 2).
Err: Dear sweet Jesus. Robert, there are things that some people can call other people, that not everyone is allowed to call them. Let it go and don't call him that anymore.
1: Dr. Err. I don't get it.
Err: Isreal. Do you want 2 to call you Izzyhuny like I do???
Laughter from all boys
1: (who now sounds very much like a cow who's voice is changing) Nooooooo
Err: Ok. So knock it off, act right, and get to work, huh boys?

I laugh out loud every day at my job.

I laughed out loud telling my mom about the boy who just got expelled for all but swinging on a teacher, (like he said, "hold my books while I drop this so and so).
My mom didn't laugh. She knows that one of these classes has 5 boys who are trouble enough shut down a class on their own. 4 of them are in a gang.

Err: Man. Ain't nuthin' you can do but laugh about it.
Ma: (who is worried, because at 14 and 15, these boys are getting big) That's not funny.
Err: Yeah. I guess not. But I can't take that home. I can't take home, how this kid got so screwed up. How someone screwed him up enough that he thinks he can wink and flirt and touch me. I can't take home that 75% of my students mentioned that they have either never met their dad, or he's in jail, or they didn't meet him until they were 9 because he was locked up when they were born. Or how their dad is in jail because he tried to kill their mom and them. Or how they got jumped in to the neighborhood gang. Or what the life expectancy is for a gang member.

I can't take that home with me every night.
So I laugh about it.