“Mrs. Welding, are you afraid of heights?”

“Ummm…. No…”

“Well, your zipper sure is!” 

Ha ha. Hilarious. Real funny.  NOT.  Middle schoolers love to kid around, tease, pull a prank—but most of all, they love to see you sweat.  They love to laugh AT their teachers… 

*I am so excited to be home, hangin’ out with my homies… My bestest friend is also a teacher—she even took over my classroom when I left last spring.  Visiting her on my vacation has been the best.  She shared with me an incident that happened to her last week at work.* 

8th graders are funny and smart.  Just ask them.  They are also very observant.  They notice your clothes, and they will tell you if you need to pluck your eyebrows or iron your shirt.  They also know that Janie’s 2nd grade teacher’s neighbor’s  daughter’s BFF has a crush on the boy that’s in your third period class that sits in the third row, second seat from the back.  However, they won’t tell you if you are wearing your lunch on your face or if you accidentally left a dry cleaning tag on the outside of your shirt—they won’t tell you because they think it’s funny.  They know it all—they see it all—they love to laugh.  

Case in point.  Kyla—my BFF—was preparing a lesson using the DVD player, requiring that she turn her back to her class several times over several class periods because she was having trouble getting it to play. 

Every time she turned her back and leaned over to reach the player behind the television, she heard the kids snickering.  Turn. Snickers. Turn. Giggles. Turn. Chuckles.  At least three times she turned around, and at least three times her students began laughing.   First period.  Second period.  Now third period.  She noticed that the 3 boys in the front row were particularly red in the face... 

“What , what?  What is it you’re laughing at?”

“Mrs. W, you have a rip in your pants.”

“What?”  *internal scream*  Flashback to all those dreams where you've somehow made it to work naked...

After feeling around her backside  she confirmed her worst fear—she had split her pants—God knows how, she’s like a size two…  This wasn’t  any old rip; however, the rip was the size of a small watermelon—from the top of her pocket to the crotch of her pants.  I’m. not. kidding.

Boxers or briefs?  Eh hem... I mean,  big mama’s or dental floss?  Yep, you guessed it.  No boy shorts, folks… Poor, poor dear…   She’s feeling a little haunted by the experience: her friends won’t let her live this one down…

“Nice thigh hat, Ky!”

“You must have invested well, you sure have nice assets…hee hee”

Cute post padder babe…

Do fries come with that shake, Ky?  
 

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