Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Goals For Next Week

Me (finishing lesson): Are there any questions?

9th grade boy: Are those the same pants you wore yesterday?

Me: Of course not. (This statement is a TOTAL LIE.)

I internally groan as I realize that I'm going to have to start paying more attention to which pair of black pants I throw on when I roll out of bed (practically comatose) at 6:00am. I'm still feeling really sorry for myself when I stop to wonder why this boy is so observant of my attire. I conclude that he is either a) really into fashion or b) staring at my butt.

Instantaneously, my mind flashes back to when I left school on Thursday. As I exited my classroom, I saw this boy and Tawnee from my 7th period class in some kind of weird hormonal embrace complete with swaying and butt touching. Question answered. Crap.

As I snap back into real time and quickly try to change the subject to something related to the lesson, I realize the boys in the class are having a frantic debate on exactly how the pink sweater I'm currently wearing is different than the pink sweater I wore the day before.

Boy 1: The one yesterday had those silver and blue threads woven into it.

Boy 2: No, they were green threads not blue.

Boy 3: It also had that weird collar. (cowl neck)

As I fully realize why they know exactly what my sweaters look like, I make two promises to myself:

1) Stop asking "Are there any questions?" after I finish a lesson.

2) Wear a parka while teaching.


  1. Haha! I guess I'm glad I teach little 7th graders. They're not very observant sometimes because they're so worried about themselves. By the way, a math teacher here wants you to sub on November 18th. You free?

  2. Yes! She called me Friday to set things up! Will I have the same lunch as you?

  3. you can hardly blame them... of course they're going to fancy the cute single sub!

  4. I would be in so much trouble with this level of scrutiny re: my daily ensemble choices. The closest I come is having to model my outfit upon walking down the stairs into my practice area. Luckily I'm working with middle-aged women--not bratty teenagers.

  5. Ha ha ha ha ha ahhh, middle school.....