Oh, Crumb! No Drinking For The Storyteller.

Oh, crumb! I hope my students are kind when speaking about me in other classes. Though I seriously doubt that they are. We know I have control issues. I tell them that the first day, in my Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's Never Ever List. Like don't touch my stuff, and don't argue with me, and do as I say the moment I say. Because I can't have disorder. I must have it MY way. One look at my writing on the white board in capital block letters should tell you that. So if that's all they mock me for, I am getting off lucky. I freely admit to being a control freak and a snitch.

The "Oh, crumb!" line they stole from Math Crony. And they talk about how she hates people to touch her desk, so when they ask for help, they lean all over it. And how somebody's phone went off, and she said, "What could that noise be?" And how she freaks out if somebody puts their paper up against the white board to write their name on it. And how she dares to say, "Happy Friday!" to people. Give her a break. She is not as dumb as they think she is. Even some of the students stood up for her. "She knew it was a phone, idiot! She was just pretending it wasn't. Like, giving him a chance to shut it off so she wouldn't have to take it, stupid."

Then there's another of the core teachers who tells them, "Absolutely no drinks in my classroom" while she has a bottle of water, a gas station fountain soda, and a bottle of juice on her desk that she swills from all day.

They were merciless on Mr. S today. He tells stories, you see. You'd think that the kids would like stories. It keeps the lesson at bay. But no. These kids always want the greener grass. Give them stories, and they want a lesson. Give them a video, and they want a lecture. Go figure! Their issue with Mr. S is that they don't believe his stories. "He has a story for everything!" they say. One asked him if it was possible for a U.S. soldier and a Vietnamese soldier to be standing two feet away from one another, and not see each other, due to the camouflage. Mr. S allegedly replied, "You know, Spike, I have a friend who won't smoke at night." Spike was a bit confused, so Mr. S said, "My friend was shot at by a Vietnamese sniper who could see the glow of his cigarette." And Spike said, "But could a U.S. soldier and a Vietnamese soldier be standing two feet away from one another and not see each other?" A persistent lot, these freshmen.

Two of the kids started making up their own stories and telling them a la Mr. S. "I was the best basketball player in the world. I could jump from the free throw line and dunk it. I was so good, they gave me 4 points for that shot." The other chimed in, "My knees are bad now because of the force necessary to jump that high. The cartilage couldn't take the shock of the landing." Back to the first one, "I am actually a superior human. I have a tail, you know. It helps me run fast, and gave me balance for jumping." Then they decided he had many descendants through the ages, who were also storytellers. "I killed a woolly mammoth with just a sharpened stick." The other added, "I used my tail to hang from a tree limb until it walked under me, and then I stabbed it." They swore that no matter what you tell him, he will have a story about it. He's either done it, or he knows more than you.

Mr. S dropped in to talk to me after school. I decided to test their theory. I showed him a picture in our Science World magazine. "Look at that. The guy got gored during the running of the bulls. See that horn stuck in his leg? It looks like the tip is going to come out just below his knee." Mr. S looked at the photo. "I had a milk cow pin me against the wall one time. A cow with horns. I don't know why she had it in for me. My dad was milking her once, and she went to the bathroom on her tail, and then swished it around and whacked him in the side of the head with it. I thought he was going to come unglued." Then I showed Mr. S the article on King Tut, and how they had to enclose him in Plexiglass because all the people breathing on him were molding his face. Mr. S said, "Well, their first mistake is that they shouldn't have broken him in 3 pieces back in 1927."

I don't really want to know what the students say about me.