Boiling Rock Star Stalker

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is nearing her boiling point. It is the 3rd Quarter Blues, to be sure. Perhaps she should pen a little tune for her new garage band, Mommy's Got A Headache.

First cat out of the bag this morning to push Mrs. HM's buttons was the new kid who dressed as a Rock Star. That was perfectly permissible, what with today being Rock Star Day for Homecoming week. The issue was with Rock Star's guitar. It was a toy guitar, pinkish, with buttons that played snippets of songs. After the fourth time it went off 'by accident' because his leg hit it, he was informed that it was DRESS like a Rock Star Day, not SOUND like a Rock Star Day. Of course the kid who announced loudly just after the class was silent, taking their test on Heat and Temperature, "This calculator sucks!" when using Mrs. HM's lime green TI-30 that all the other kids think is the coolest one, just after saying, "Test? What test?" even though it has been written on the board since Tuesday, and was out of his seat after turning in his test, and didn't sit down until being told twice, and then got up again, and moved a chair out of place, and then left the chair when being told AGAIN to return to his seat, so had to be admonished to put the chair back, chose to get up yet a third time and sit, guess where, by the Rock Star, and took his guitar and intentionally pushed both the guitar's and Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's buttons to make not-so-sweet music.

To make matters worse, Roamer took offense to Mrs. HM's decree to go back to his seat immediately, whimpering that other people had moved, and was further offended by Mrs. HM's inquiry as to why he was so needy for attention from one Mrs. HM, having pulled stunts like this every day, and that it bordered on being a form of stalking within the classroom, this constant cry for attention, which at least made him grimace in disgust and throw up his hands and say, "Whatever," in effect breaking his attention-seeking behavior for one day, at least, though there were only 5 minutes left of class.

At lunch, five faculty agreed that a couple of us may not last until May. Not that we're going to expire like the food dumped on our trays, but rather that a couple of us are going to snap.

And it's not going to be pretty.