So Much For Telling My Kids the Truth

Standard

Me: “How many teachers are pregnant at your school?”

Xavier: “Four.”

Me: “Geez…sounds like there’s something in the water.”

Xavier: “Sounds like a lot of teachers are having unprotected sex.”

Me: …..

They Don’t Make Enough Soap To Deal With This.

Standard

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…

And, Yes, I Am Going To Teach…I’m Just Whining.

Standard

Me: I’m too tired to teach tomorrow, I think I’ll just show them a movie.

Ryan: How about Frozen?

Me: How about Mommy Dearest?

Ryan: Good call, it would make all the parents look good.

Me: Today’s lesson: Perspective.

Ryan: They’ll also learn important life lessons like “Clean your plate.”

Me: And, “No, you DON’T need all those birthday presents.”

Ryan: And, “You can’t beat Mommy at swimming, but she can beat you…with everything in the house.”

Me: So much better than Disney.

Terrified Of What She Will Say When She Brings The Grade Up One Letter

Standard

As some of you know, I do volunteer work with LGBT youth after work.  Last week, one of my girls, who constantly cracks me up, came in SUUUUUPER pissed off.

Me: “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Maddy: “I’m getting a D in Algebra.”

Me: “Oh, that sucks.  I’m sorry.”

Maddy: “Ironic isn’t it?”

Me: “How?”

Maddy: “I’ve made it very clear that I want nothing to do with ‘the D’, and here I have one fucking me in math.”

Me: *snort*

CLOCK! I Said Clock, Dammit!

Standard

Whilst teaching Language Arts and doing a dictation exercise, where they have to write a series of sentences given to them orally.  (Reminder: My kids have learning disabilities and are below grade level in reading…)

Me: “Robert needed to have his deck scrubbed before the event.”

D’Avonte: (snort)

Me: “What is your problem?”

D’Avonte: (laughing)

Me: “His DECK…he needed his DECK scrubbed.”

 

I Think It’s Safe To Say I Won’t Be Vicariously Attending Prom

Standard

 

(A series of texts during the Spring Formal I was chaperoning last night.)

Ryan: Did you bring your ruler, so you can measure if there’s room for the Holy Spirit?

Me: If I sent you pictures of the way these girls were dressed, you’d send Morgan to a convent before she hits puberty.  I need a yard stick.

Ryan: What is your exact job at this thing, if they’re letting them in half-naked?

Me: It seems to be me walking around, using a flashlight as a method of birth control.

(Thirty minutes later.)

 

Me: Goddammit! I was right in the middle of the throng, and a fucking Beyonce song came on…

Ryan: That’s going to be the weirdest Worker’s Comp claim in the history of man.

Me: So…much…flailing…

(An hour later…)

Me: We should have made a High School Dance Bingo card for this thing.

Ryan: Has their been an awkward dance battle, yet?

Me: Check. And now two guys have their ties tied around their head.

Ryan: That’s a corner piece. You’re one girl crying in the corner, from a Bingo.

(five minutes later)

Me; BINGO!!!

Ryan: Congrats. The prize is that you have to call her mother.

Me: Fuck!