Friday, January 9, 2009

An Eye For An Eye

The MathCrony prank is allegedly going down on Monday. The kids didn't mention it today.

It appears that my LunchCuz of the dogfood fame has been trying to initiate a little prank light. There is a kid who spent the entire 1st Quarter in trouble in my class. Then his mom came to conferences, and I enlightened her on some of his daily antics, and CityKid either grew some common sense or started self-medicating. He is now docile as a lamb, for which I take full credit, because to know Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is to love Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. My familiarity does not breed contempt, but a healthy respect for the all-encompassing love and compassion that is Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's mantra. That, or he just caught on that PEOPLE PISS ME OFF, and looked in the mirror one morning and realized that he is a prime specimen of PEOPLE.

Anyhoo, earlier in the year, while LunchCuz was staring wistfully at my food, and before she voiced her opinion of my sack lunch, I gave her a little synopsis of the trials of CityKid. She no doubt heard only blah blah blah because she was thinking Is that takeout/I wonder where it came from/Did she heat it in her microwave/Is she going to eat it all/It smells good/I wish I had it instead of this Marie Callender frozen dinner because half of it is cooked but half of it is still frozen and then she heard a smidgen of what I was saying, and casually stated, "I never have any problems with him." OK. She is a master teacher, I suppose, and obviously I can not control my class. That was the message I got.

So on Wednesday, here comes CityKid up the hall, actually on time, and with his book, and he stops at the door, pulls a button out of his pocket, and says, "Will you sew my button on?" I looked at him like he had three heads, not even one of them wearing a hood. That's one of his idiosyncrasies, you see, hoodwearing in the building. I was a bit taken aback. "Sew on your button? You have TOTALLY come to the wrong place for that." And CityKid said wistfully, "But Mrs. LunchCuz said you would sew it on for me!" He knew that she was pranking, and he knew that I knew that she was pranking. I went along as if we were both serious. "Are you sure she said 'Mrs. Hillbilly Mom'? Maybe she meant Mrs. ParkingSpotStealer. She is much better at that type of thing." He shook his hoodless head. "No. She said you and she meant you." I ransacked my brain for a clever comeback, but my brain must be a bit sluggish due to a past history of Sweet, Sweet Histinex dosages. "I'm sorry, but buttons are not my cup of tea." He ducked his head and went to his seat.

About halfway through the class, the witty-reply-page in my head finally loaded. "CityKid? Ask Mrs. LunchCuz if she is done training that new Sugar Glider for you. She said it will be so tame you can carry it in your pocket and let it sleep on your pillow." CityKid gaped in horror. "If it's like hers, it will rip my face off!"

Exactly. And I'm a button-sewing maniac.

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