Student Quote of the Week. →[More:]

The start of this year has felt harder than the previous five years. I don't know if it actually is, or if I'm just more worn. I have two big junior English classes, with about 30 students each, and a senior AP class. I can't complain about the AP class; they're a dream, plus, I know most of the students from last year, which helps. But my new juniors are trying to say the least. The last month has been a battle for mere basics, like stay in your seat, raise your hand, don't throw things, stop hitting each other, open your book. One clearly intelligent young man seemed to delight in repeating my instructions in this snide, mocking tone, then looked bewildered when I called him on it. Another girl, when asked for the millionth time to please stop talking to her neighbor, proudly announced, "I choose to be dumb."

With that last one, I'd had it. "Wonderful," I said, "your parents must be so proud." I then suggested she put it on a t-shirt to show the world. To which she replied, "No, I'll put it on a t-shirt with your face on it."

Gotta admit. Not a bad comeback.

It doesn't help that it's hot like august, and my school doesn't have air conditioning. I sweat through my clothes by lunch. Every day, I come home, strip down to a t-shirt and panties, blast the air conditioners, and climb into bed. And that's just how Jon finds me when he comes home, nearly comatose, watching CSI reruns. My hair a mess, dishes piled in the sink, take-out for supper. He's a very understanding husband. Lets me bitch until I get it out of my system. (Thank you, honey.)

Kids are funny, though. No matter how bad the day before was, they come into class the next day like nothing happened. The rudest, most difficult student one day can be the most cooperative the next. I suspect some strange form of adolescent amnesia. We actually had a pretty good day Friday. We're reading Lorraine Hansberry's, A Raisin in the Sun, and they're into it. "Your students are so well-behaved," the new Assistant Principal marveled. I suppose. And it only cost a year or two off my life.