Friday, September 5, 2008

For Lack Of A Proper Handbasket

We should all be worried. Some day in the near future, we may not even have handbaskets available for the express elevator ride to Hell. Especially if the youth of our nation, my son's generation, are running the handbasket factories.

Two conversations today convinced me of our plight. The first was with my #1 son on the way home from school.

Mrs. Basementia Buddy says my class is a bunch of idiots.
That's a surprise?
Not really. She tells us that all the time.
Then why are you bringing it up now?
Today she said something about a preposition, and we said, "What's that?"
You mean none of you knew what a preposition was?
No. Nobody's ever taught us.
Seriously, you're in 8th grade, and you've never heard of a preposition.
No. Mrs. Basementia Buddy said she learned it on Grammer Rock 30 years ago when she was in 3rd grade.
Yeah, me too.
Mom. You were not in 3rd grade 30 years ago.
OK. But listen to this.
Yeah, she sang it for us too. Then she started on Conjunction Junction.
Ooh, I love that one. Conjunction Junction, what's your function...
Alright. Enough. We told her we KNEW that one.
How do you know a conjunction if you don't know a preposition?
Duh. We learned it yesterday. In choir.
Wait a minute. You learned about conjunctions in choir?
Uh huh. Mr. H teaches us a lot of things. He plays Grammar Rock.
Thank the Gummi Mary! At least the choir teacher is learnin' youse English.
(OK, that's not exactly what I said, but you get my drift)

The other most depressing moment of realization came in my Algebra class.
Mrs. Math Crony doesn't like me.
Why would you say that?
Because every day, she yells at me.
Yeah, that's how she is. She picks out someone in each class to not like.
Who does she not like in your class?
Well, I have her 7th hour. Yesterday, I just put my hand on her desk, and she said she was going to send me to the office.
She doesn't like anybody touching her desk.
I know that NOW.
So don't touch her desk.
But the other day, I don't even know what I was saying, and she said, "Unfavorite Girl, just stop it. You are SO annoying!"
Well, maybe you shouldn't have been talking.
I can't stand her. I like all of my other teachers, but I want to put her on my 'Hit List.'
Wait a minute. Watch what you're saying. You can't say 'Hit List,' or you can get kicked out of school.
Yeah. Remember that girl a couple years ago with the hit list and three knives? She got sent away for over a year.
What's wrong with a Hit List? It just means a list of people you want to hit.
No. It means people you want to kill.
Oh. Well, I don't hate Mrs. Math Crony THAT much! I just want to hit her.

And for a bonus, let me throw in this gem from my tech students.
That's really gay.
You can't say that. It's one of the hate words you can't use at school.
What is?
That's not a bad word.
It's the way you are using it.
So if we say it the correct word, it's OK? Like, "Stop being such a homosexual."
Um. No. It's the WAY you are using it, as an insult, in a negative way.
I don't get it.
I've had people in other years say things like, "You're so Jewish!" And "Don't be such a Mexican!" You are not allowed to say things like that at school.
Why would anybody call anyone Jewish?

I give up.
I'm leaving the burden of educating the leaders of the future to Mr. H.


DeadpanAnn said...

Today in my 7th period class from hell, a boy called a fellow student "that mexican girl." She probably didn't even know it since she speaks ZERO English, but that's not the point.

I was highly offended that he intentionally disrespected the Mexican. It's not her fault that her parents came here to work in a chicken plant and now she has to sit in school not knowing what the hell's going on. But they love to gay bash, and I don't even say anything when they do that. I really don't care. I'm just glad they're not talking about how COOL it is to be gay.

Stewed Hamm said...

You're both being so Peruvian. Knock it the heck off already!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Miss Ann,
I have to put the kibosh on the gay bashing. I don't want some EMO to start cutting and have it blamed on ME.

Once upon a time, an anorexic girl's parents blamed me for her anorexia. They gave two reasons. I wouldn't let her go to the bathroom when she came to my class after lunch (duh, she came in red-eyed from VOMITING every time I let her go, which would have be EVERY FREAKIN' DAY if I let her, so I told her she would have to take a tardy if she wanted to go, which was my standard policy on bathroom frequent flyers). Secondly, as her 7th grade basketball coach, I removed her from her starting position after 4 games because she was not playing well, which tends to happen if you're weak from vomiting up all your nutrients day after day. I don't know how I gained so much influence over her to make her anorexic. It seems to me they were putting the cart before the horse, since my actions were determined by her unannounced case of anorexia in the first place.

Cease and desist with your Peruvian-calling, or I shall be forced to machu your picchu!