Today I am spending my entire day report card writing. They are due tonight. Yes, I have procrastinated the shit out of this task, because it’s the WORST. But also because I have a report card writing routine that works pretty well for me.

I have a pile of the students’ names. I sort them by whose parents are nice to me, or give the best gifts. Extra points are also given for being generally clean and knowing how to wipe your nose. With a TISSUE.

Those kids go at the top. Chronically late, chronically absent, and chronically attitudinal kids go at the bottom. Minus extra points if your parent has ever picked a completely unnecessary fight with me. Minus even MORE points if I’ve ever seen you lick the classroom rug, a classroom material, or your friend.

With the names sorted, I then chug my venti Starbucks and start in from the top. On a caffeine high, I merrily list all the wonderful things about each child. As the high dissipates and I get crankier, I move to the middle of the pack (the kids who need to step it up just a tad. And by kids I mean their parents.) Then, when hours have gone by, the high has become a crippling crash, and I want to gouge my eyes out from boredom, I start in on the kid whose mom shoves two Tylonel down his throat and sends him to school with a 101 fever. At the very bottom of the pile is the kid whose mom addresses me as “teacher,” because, after two years, she doesn’t know my name.

So. I’m just saying, parents. Respect your kid’s teacher. She’s a human being.

Meaning she believes in revenge.