Balloon Heads

Bet you didn't know that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is not only psychic, but is also a bona fide mindreader. YES I AM! I know what you're thinkin'. Don't try to fool me. Why, just today, as I was working through some problems calculating WORK, POWER, and MECHANICAL ADVANTAGE on my whiteboard, I looked out upon my students and perceived a multitude of thought bubbles rising from their knowledge-thirsting heads. They went a little something like this:

I thought this was SCIENCE.
What time does this class get out?
Who cares?
When will I ever need this?
I have no idea what she's talking about.
It's too cold in here.
Somebody stinks.
Where is Skipper? He has been skipping a lot lately.
You could get high off those markers.
What's for lunch?
Why doesn't she shut up?
I'm going to copy if this is on the test.
Purple is the prettiest color.
Looks like a tornado coming.
It's too hot in here.
Somebody wrote on my desk.
Don't look at me. Don't call on me.
Is it only Tuesday?
If she lets me go to the bathroom, I can text.
Even those stories about her kids are better than THIS.
Am I passing?
Does anybody have some gum?
That purse is ugly.
I hate this class.
Did she wear that shirt four days in a row?
I need to ask Mr. S if he has some extra rope.
If I buy a pencil with my $5 bill, I will have change for a soda.
That doesn't make any sense.
I'm going to guess if it's multiple choice.
Twenty-three days left.
I wish I could put up my hood and listen to music.
This sucks.
I really could be doing my Algebra right now.
I'm glad I brought my library book.
Why does she bother?
Does she color her hair?
Why can't we watch a movie?



Teaching. A rewarding career.