I've been pleasantly surprised by many aspects of this experience so far. For instance, when the bell rings, the kids walk in an orderly fashion to their next class, as opposed to what I've seen on the movie Lean On Me, where the hallways become a festival of terrible choices while Welcome To The Jungle blares from the speakers, and Morgan Freeman screams through a megaphone. This was way better than that.
5th PERIOD- LANGUAGE ARTS
I'm a writer. Words are my thing. But I've learned that means absolutely nothing in the world of formal education, because anytime I've helped Kearstin write a college paper, my part always gets marked off. You don't appreciate hilarity, college proffs? Screw you.
The first thing the teacher did was write a topic on the board and gave the students the first 10 minutes of class to write in their journal. Whaaaaaat just happened here? Did I morph back to my 7th grade class with Miss Carlson?? Does this teacher know the foundation she's building for these kids??? Do these kids even realize that this very exercise could catapult them into a career of writing Snark???? Everybody be cool. It's just a normal day. Suddenly I felt like I should be called to "the podium of courage" and address the class, but I knew if I raised my hand right now, I'd look like Horshack on Welcome Back Kotter, and the podium of courage could forever be tainted with unnecessary anxiety by my unbridled enthusiasm for the topic of Snark...or worse, risk turning them off of Snark completely. I don't know about you, but I can't live with that.
After they journaled, the remainder of the class was spent watching a video teaching them the methods of persuasion. Free writing and street smarts. What else will they ever need? Clearly, this teacher is my spirit animal, and I feel like we're gonna be friends in real life. She just doesn't know it yet.
6th PERIOD- LUNCH
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| Me and my new friends! (Those aren't their real faces.) |
This was the period I'd been dreading most. I mean, in a classroom, the teacher is gonna pick your seat, and if she's even a halfway decent person, she's not gonna stick you off by yourself, and make a spectacle out of you. But the cafeteria...that's the stuff adolescent nightmares are made of. I stopped by the principal's office to grab my salt and pepper shakers from my backpack. Technically, that might've been "against the rules", but what's the worst that could happen? A lunch lady sees me season my food and says, "Stop right there. No. Go think about what you've done." Cuz I can live with that. Risk and reward, kids. Live large. Take chances.
As I got in line, I realized another "mom student" was a couple people ahead of me. Rejoice. A comrade. I won't eat alone. So I put on my best social game face, struck up a friendly conversation with her, and then all super casual-like, slipped in the idea of maybe possibly we could even sort of sit together? And then I almost peed myself when she said she was planning on sitting with the girls from her class. Hold up. If I just got rejected by someone in my own age bracket, I'm basically screwed. But then, out of nowhere, one of my Math partners came running over and said, "Shari! Do you wanna sit with us?" Maybe it was my dot plot skills, or maybe it was my salt and pepper, but it didn't matter. I was asked if I wanted to be part of a "with us" lunch table.
DO.I.EVERRRRR! And I left that mother in the dust.
Glad I didn't actually pee myself back there, huh?
PLANK TIME- It's true. You don't actually plank.
It's basically another study hall. All my friends at lunch (that's right...all my friends at lunch), filled me in. There are 2 different rooms for Plank Time. One is for the kids who don't have any work they need to get done, so they get to hang out and play cards. The other room is for mandatory homework time, better known as "jail" amongst the students. I was assigned to jail, but I was totally fine with that, because jail was run by my Language Arts Teacher/future new good friend. When I arrived at plank time, she welcomed me to "the room of tranquility." I said, "You know the kids don't call it that, right?" When I saw her smile fade, I knew I'd just stepped in it. She asked, "What do they call it?"
Sh*t.
"Um...jail?"
It's not like we'd become facebook friends or exchanged phone numbers yet, so whatever. I already have like 4 or 5 real life friends and that's a lot, ya know?
Six periods down, two to go. Tune in for the School Mom Conclusion on Thursday, when we doo doo in Choir and learn that acting out persecution in Social Studies is frowned upon...
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