Wednesday, May 15

oh, for the love

I've found myself saying, "Oh, for the love!" with alarming frequency these past weeks.  The primary agitators being the weather and looming school end.

First, the weather.  I fully admit it has been a unique type of lovely.  But, if you take lovely [read: hot] weather + 32 students + a trailer without air conditioning? catching my drift?  Rather miserable.  [Although it's nice from a managerial standpoint, in that my students are made lethargic by the heat and yell less.]  Anyway.  We try to make do--we've made paper fans, we've opened windows, we've spouted encouraging things like persevere, and doesn't it feel great to build character?  But.  We all have our breaking points and, to my students' delight, all includes me.  Yesterday, with four minutes to go, I felt a trickle of sweat making its way down my back.  Taking that to be an omen of sorts, I slammed my hands on a nearby desk and bellowed, or more truthfully tried to bellow, "Oh, for the love!  This heat.  You may leave.  I wish you all shade and popsicles."

Other for the love outbursts have been in response to increasingly idiotic end-of-school-year student behavior.  Such as:

Today when a student decided to yell the following during a [miraculously!] quiet activity: "Mrs. Gull! You should name your daughter Stacey so that all her friends can sing, Stacey's Mom! Has got it going on!"  And then, before I could address the inappropriateness of the comment, the class burst out with various forms of, Wait! You're pregnant?  You're having a daughter?  When are you due? I knew you were pregnant!  Etcetera, et-freaking-cetera.  [Who would have thought my students would be more fixated on me having children than my sister?]

Anyway-onward!  Look at what one of my students wore to school the other day:

When I spotted the ensemble I said, "Not that you need a reason, there one?"  To which he simply recited Macklemore lyrics.  To which I nodded, knowingly.

In wrapping up, let me leave you with this horrifying thought:
If I talk this much about my students, can you imagine the psychotic ramblings ahead when I have children?  Oh, for the love.


1 comment:

  1. I feel your end of the year pain- it's as if all their brains have sprouted a pair of legs and walked out the door. It's a building full of zombie children!