Many months have passed since my last post, and as such, many events have transpired. I knew that teaching 7th grade would come with many stories and, boy, have I got ‘em. I wish I could find the time to write daily about all the ridiculousness of junior high. Unfortunately, I barely have time to do anything other than lesson plan, grade, and work on certification stuff. I have some priceless stories to tell, but sadly, some have already been lost just to a jammed brained that has forgotten many details.
So how am I writing this post? This post is brought to you from above…about 2,500 miles up. I left my kiddos for the afternoon and Friday to catch a 5 PM flight to Wisconsin to be with my sister and celebrate her birthday. It’s funny how it takes an airplane to seat me long enough to write these days…
A fresh 7th grade magic moment that must be shared because of its complete immature absurdity, is a boy’s bathroom story. Of course. 13 year-olds just think differently from adults and children. They’re almost a complete synthesis of both- childlike thoughts with a budding adult sense of logic trying to develop. And then at other times, they just don’t think at all. We had a lovely 7th grade boy decide that while he was relieving himself in the bathroom at lunch, aiming for the urinal just wasn’t inspiring nor fun enough. Instead, he thought it would be better to take aim at something new… like an electrical socket. I don’t know how many other young fellows were in the bathroom with him at the time, but by 5th period, there was a buzz about so-and-so peeing on the outlet. I later heard that the outlet sparked and started a small fire. The walls in that bathroom are black now because some child prodigy decided he was too good for just a urinal. And as expected from most middle-schoolers, a burning wall in a bathroom will go unreported. No one wants to be a snitch. By 6th period, a cash reward was offered to the person that gave the name of the little pisser. One of my students begged to go to the office, bolted, and sprinted down the hallway. Then I saw a number of boys, as if they were being chased by a pee-induced socket fire, sprint towards the office. I guess being a snitch is OK if you get a hundred bucks out of it. Needless to say, the culprit was suspended. No end of the year Christmas party for him. In my opinion, the little guy was lucky. He could have been electrocuted from the nether-region. Who would want to go throughout junior high and high school as the guy that almost died because his junk was shocked from peeing on an outlet? And I don’t know if telling a kid that he’s suspended from school (especially for it being so close to Christmas break, anyway) is a harsh enough punishment for starting a small fire on campus with bodily fluids.
Another story: I just had a moment in class where I came to reality. Even though I teach 7th graders, they’re still just kids. I often get wrapped up with these high expectations about how they should know this and that and act this way and that way. But realistically, they’re so much like my former 3rd graders in behavior and thought than I realized, and some aren’t even much taller than the 3rd graders. I had one of my students come in from lunch, skipping to my desk, clearly clutching something precious in his hands. He said grinning, “Look!! Look what I found! What do I do with it?!” He held in his hand near my face a baby gecko. That was unexpected. That little pink and brown reptile had to go. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Some days I have to regroup to find reality. These kids are smart and capable and becoming young adults, but at the bottom of everything, still and always just kids. They’re curious little humans, figuring out the world and themselves, wanting to know "why" incessantly, and unafraid to get the gecko. They’re someone’s baby and someone loves them. And for those who don’t have that someone… it has to be me.
There will be more to come for sure. This flight isn’t nearly long enough to cover the happenings of junior high, room 150, 7th grade Math TAKS.
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