Colleague (referring to the fact that no parents showed up to our Parent Engagement Night): “At least it gave you some time to finish report cards!”
Me (rolling my eyes): “Oh, please. We finished those last week. Mentally, I’m already in Israel.”
Colleague: <completely and utterly unamused>
Probably because he’s my boss.
Me: “Why does the last month of school drag on foreverrrrrrrrrrrrr?!?!?!?”
And then, at some point between my trips to Israel, Michigan, and the Outer Banks this summer, someone punches me in the face.
Because I deserve it.
A 3rd grader pops her head into our classroom and I happen to be standing by the door while my co teacher is at the front of the room.
Kid: “Miss Emily, I have a compliment to say.”
Me: “Oh, great! I love compliments. Go for it!”
Kid: “Can you please tell your co-teacher she looks VERY pretty today?”
Me: “Well that’s sweet! I’ll pass that message right along!”
Jerk.
That moment when you’re reading a super awkward part in the class read-aloud about a boy and a girl at a middle school dance, and a kid calls out “Woo– nice flirting!”
So you just throw the book down, get up and leave.
Because you’re laughing so hard you’re crying.
Kid (complaining): “Why is my photo on the classroom door in black and white and everyone else’s is in color?”
Me: “Because you missed the entire first week of school when we took the photos, so we had to print yours on the classroom printer instead of CVS. Remember that? When you missed the whole first week, because mom thought it was more important for you to be on vacation than to be in school learning? And you came back and had no idea what to do, and we had to take the time to re-explain every single thing you missed?”
Kid (head down): “Yeah…”
As a child, I missed the entire first week of school every single year, K through 8th grade, to vacation with my family in the Outer Banks.
It was fucking awesome.
Kid (to my co teacher and me, as she exits the stage after the performance): “That was horrible!”
Us: “What?! Stop! Don’t say that! It was wonderful! You were great!”
It really was fucking awful.
Kid: “I’m really glad you’re coming to the band concert tonight because I am REALLY nervous.”
Me: “Aw, there’s nothing to worry about. Really, what’s the WORST that can happen?”
Kid: “Well, I could drop my clarinet in the middle of the song, it could crash into pieces, everyone would stare, the song would stop, I’d have to pay for the instrument, the concert would be ruined and it would be all my fault.”
(long pause)
Me: “Yeah. That’d be bad.”
#june
I would like to thank the NYC Dept of Education student-survey-makers for putting me in the position where I had to answer this question from a kid:
“Miss Emily, for number 30– what does ‘other’ mean?”
I had a meeting with administration and the guardian of one of my students (mom couldn’t make it, so an older brother was coming in her place). I enter the main office for the meeting.
Administration: “Jon’s brother is outside in the hall. You can get him and tell him to come in.”
Me: “That guy sitting out there? That’s not the brother I met before.”
Administration: “Oh, well it must be a different brother. But it’s definitely one of Jon’s brothers.”
Me (trusting they know something I don’t): “Oh, ok.”
(walk out to hall, extend my hand to young man waiting in chair)
Me: “Hi! I’m Emily, Jon’s teacher. It’s nice to meet you.”
Nope. Not Jon’s brother.
Just a completely unrelated black guy.
It is becoming increasingly apparent (based on the shocked, disapproving reactions of my non-teacher friends when I use the term) that you have to actually work with children all day every day to be able to appreciate the fact that some of them are, in fact, dicks.
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