Driving Miss Crazy

These students are driving me crazy.

That's not a punchline. It's the awful truth. Can they not wear pants that expose their flabby crack to me while I am eating lunch? OK. Maybe that didn't come out right. I'm all for the wearing of pants. But the crack attack has got to go. LunchBuddy and I were both diverted from our conversation trying to tune out Mr. S by a movement at a nearby table. We inadvertently viewed a Grand Canyonesque crack gaping toward infinity. Lucky for LunchBuddy, her order-out lunch had not yet arrived. I, on the other hand, had to suppress the day-old DiGiorno rising past my goiter. So distracted and repulsed were we that for a moment, it sounded like Mr. S had said, "Back when I was a biker..."

We all know that S is a jack of all trades, but Biker was a new one for us. Upon further focusing, we found that he was talking about a time he was in a biker shop. Not that such a statement rules out his bikerism, but we would have heard about it before if he had a biking past. Hundreds of times. Mr. S asked if we knew that biker leathers ("You know, the leather clothing that they wear?" Yes. We are familiar with biker leathers. We have not been held captive in an underground bunker without TV for the last 20 years, Mr. S) are really expensive. Like about $800-$900 expensive. To which I replied, "Well, yes. They are made out of leather, after all."

I don't think Mr. S liked my comment very much. He has been rather distant since Mabel accosted him about the politics of health care. He must think I am Mabel's right-hand man in Hillbilly woman form. Mabel loves to stir the pot, but I have learned never to voice a real opinion to Mr. S. He is unreachable. It's like his eyes turn into those black-and-white swirly circle thingies that might hypnotize you. He spouts out factoids that only he knows, because he made them up. Like when he told the freshmen that 50% of people who get swine flu die, but that his doctor told him he didn't need the shot.

Back to the students making me crazy. There are many methods to their madness. One of their favorites is the I'll Turn It In Later Today game. Can't fool ME twice. I automatically record the score as ZERO. I can always change it if pigs fly. That's easier than leaving a grade hanging that you have to go back and mark ZERO at the end of the day. So far, I have not had to erase a ZERO yet.

Recent methods of vehicular insanity attempts include karate-chopping one's neck to see who can take it without choking, trading tests that are coded and passed out to specific students, coughing all over me (because his germs are a gift, due to the high opinion he has of himself, and I should be grateful they were bestowed upon me), and using my classroom as some kind of slacker cafe where one can relax with a 28% and socialize and eat snacks and text until a couple of days of suspension puts a damper on that little escapade like a Baby Ruth in a public pool.

These students are driving me crazy.