Hot For Teacher

     

     I’m not sure how many of you know this, but pre-kids, I used to be a teacher.  More specifically, I used to be a junior high teacher. So, if you think back for a couple of minutes to how much of a little punk ass you probably were at that age, you can probably understand how I got REALLY burnt out on this career REALLY fast.  Nevertheless, though, I held my own for a solid six years with those hormonal little bastards, and truth be told, I actually have a lot of fond memories from my time with them.  Sure, it’s a super tough age to teach, but it’s also a very important stage to try to make a connection and hopefully steer them on the right path towards something good.  I was WAY younger than a lot of the other teachers at the school, and I think that the kids really felt like they could relate to me a little more. Sometimes, however, I think they felt a little too comfortable and close to me.    

     Most eighth grade boys are all about seeing how big of an idiot they can make of themselves in order to draw any little bit of attention that they possibly can.  They all think they’re the next freaking Jim Carrey and try their very damnedest to put on a one-man show, never mind if it just so happens to be right in the middle of a lesson on prepositions. And let me just tell you, this type of behavior just completely fueled my fire. I may be petite, but I was known as being a hard ass and not putting up with a whole lot of shit in my classroom.

     Throughout my teaching years, I certainly had my fair share of show-boaters who tried to pull their crap while under my wing.  I recall this one boy, in particular, who drove the absolute bat crazies out of me.  This kid was interested in anything and everything that didn’t relate in any way, shape or form to a single thing that was EVER going on in my class.  I swear you would’ve thought there were talent scouts for Funny Bones sitting in the back of my classroom with the way this kid would perform on a daily basis.  I slapped this kid with about a zillion detentions, but none of them seemed to ever deter him from coming back and pulling the same old stunts day after day.

     I was so excited by the time eighth grade graduation rolled around so that I could finally be rid of this little troublemaker.  I had absolutely no doubt that he would have considered me his very least favorite part of the whole eighth grade experience.  So, you can see then why I about fell over in shock when this very same unruly kid approached me in peace at the big eighth grade dance.  My husband and I had agreed to be chaperones and were standing around chatting when young junior came up and asked me to dance.  I practically choked on my punch and just stood there completely stunned at the very thought of it.  After a couple of seconds of very awkward silence, my husband leaned over and whispered that I HAD to dance with this poor kid if he had the guts to ask me in front of ALL his friends who were standing there gawking.  Trust me, the last thing on earth I wanted to do was to dance with this little thug, but I swallowed my pride and let him guide me out onto the gym floor.  It was by far the most uncomfortable slow dance I’ve ever had in my entire life, but my husband later tried to explain to me that it was probably the highlight of this kid’s whole year.  He said that boys at that age have no idea how to show their feelings for girls, and they often end up being complete a-holes to them instead.  So, I suppose then, that under this theory, I was the object of this moron’s affection or something.

     Actually, if you think about it, the whole eighth grade boy mentality is not really all that different from most grown men.  Don’t they typically all have trouble expressing their feelings and act like complete jackasses when they see something that they want?  And the hormones?  The hormones NEVER EVER stop raging!  Ok, so, maybe the old boners don’t happen all twenty-four hours of the day, but I’d bet my left eyeball that they’re saluting at least a good fifteen to twenty hours a day.  So, it’s no wonder then that my husband practically pushed me into the arms of this little classroom terror.  I think he was secretly fulfilling some “hot for teacher” fantasy that he never quite fulfilled as a fourteen year old boy.  Whatever, though — no harm, no foul.  As long as I didn’t have to take anything to the drycleaners over someone else’s “overly excited reaction”, it’s all good, right?

Hair Fetish

     

     Call me a prude, but I happen to think six years of age is a wee bit early to get your freak on.  Shouldn’t it be all about riding scooters and playing hide and go seek at this stage of the game?  I mean, come on, we all know there’s plenty of time to act like a dirty old man later on in life. So, when my first grade daughter starts requesting that I fix her hair a certain way to please a little dude at school, I can’t help but raise an eyebrow or two. Just who does this young hustler think he is trying to mold my precious baby into his own little puppet? And why is my precious baby just eating right out of the palm of this little mastermind’s hand?  Apparently, I need to be blasting some Spice Girls up on the Ipod and have a lesson or two about girl power.

     One morning last week, my daughter announced out of the clear blue sky that she wanted to wear her hair in a ponytail.  I should preface this with the fact that she NEVER wants to wear her hair up, so I knew that something was fishy. When I asked why, she told me that “Jacob” liked it when she used to wear her hair in a ponytail and wanted to see her in one again.  I kinda laughed it off at first, although deep down I was surprised that she was even concerned about pleasing someone else, much less a BOY, with her hairstyle.  But, I played the obliging mother role and tried like hell to get her very short, bobbed hair to stay up in a ponytail.  She was as happy as a peach when I dropped her off at school that day.

     As it turned out, I ended up having to drop something off in the office, so I was able to peek down the hall towards her classroom. When what to my wandering eyes should appear but Jacob circling my daughter and nodding his head with approval at her awesomely stylish head of hair.  I kind of laughed to myself and chalked it up to a silly blip of a memory. But, no, that was most certainly not the end of Jacob’s quest for the perfect coif.  My daughter told me that next morning that he’d now asked her to wear not just one but TWO ponytails to school.

     After much debating as well as for the sake of getting her there on time, I ended up caving and slopping her hair into two friggin’ tails. She was all smiles and giggles later that afternoon when I asked if Jacob dug her ‘do.  Much to my surprise, though, she told me that he was most certainly NOT her boyfriend, which left me completely confused. Why go to all that trouble when you don’t even have the hots for someone?  I just didn’t get it.  However, I think I figured out the answer to that puzzling question later that night.

     Friday night was the big fall festival at my kids’ school.  There were games, prizes, dancing, and lots of chaos going on in the two gyms. When my daughter and I got in line for the cake walk, we just so happened to run into none other than Mr. Jacob. His face lit up like a light when he saw his little protege.  He immediately grabbed her, dipped her, and planted a huge kiss on her cheek.  It caught me so off-guard that I just stood there like a statue at first.  When I came to my senses, I pulled him off her, as did Jacob’s dad, and said that was quite enough.  And as I took a good look at my daughter who was beaming with pride, it dawned on me.  She absolutely LOVED all of this attention.  It seemed to me that it was actually my little girl who was playing Jacob.  She’d give him a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ with the hair as long as he kept falling all over himself with admiration for her.  Unbelievable.  I knew the girl was a fan of the spotlight, but good Lord.    

     If she’s already playing these little mind games at six, what the hell’s she gonna be trying to pull when she’s a teenager?!  I feel like I should tattoo a WARNING label on her forehead cause I foresee lots of broken hearts in her suitors’ future.  It seems the girl’s definitely got game and is not afraid to use it.  Just to be on the safe side though, I think I’ll let Aretha sing her to sleep tonight with a little “R-E-S-P-E-C-T.”

My Son, The Flirt

      So it seems that my daughter is not the only one who is learning how to flirt these days.  Lately, my son is also getting in on the action. All of a sudden, he’s looking at the girls who’ve always been around him in a whole new light.  

     It’s so funny to me how differently girls and boys flirt.  At this age, my son basically just picks at girls to get their attention.  He grabs their shirt, pulls their pony tail, or steals their shoe — anything to get them to chase him.  He does all of these things all while laughing hysterically at their frustration.  

     At my daughter’s soccer game yesterday, he was running up and down the side of the field throughout the entire game giggling and yelling out to girls on the team.  You would’ve thought he was the team cheerleader or something.  And when the girls came together for a huddle on the sidelines with their coach, my son was right there in the middle of them, trying to distract his favorite players.  We had to remind him several times that the girls needed to pay attention to the coach and not to him and his one-man show.

     It’s actually a relief to see my son finally coming out of his shell. Even though he’s pretty much always talked a mile a minute at home and around family, he used to be EXTREMELY shy and hide behind my back around new people, whether they were adults or kids.  His preschool teachers wondered if he could talk at all because it took him almost an entire year to even speak to them.  Now, he’s so much more out-going and willing to talk to people.  In fact, he often doesn’t STOP talking!    

     So, now I guess we’ve got two little flirts in our house.  From what I hear, this fascination lasts a little while longer and then they go back to thinking the opposite sex is gross again for a while.  I’m going to appreciate the innocence of it all while it lasts, because I know that puberty is looming before us.  For now, I’ll just be happy with shoe-stealing and teasing….

Boy Crazy

     I’m wondering if I should be at all concerned that my six year old daughter already appears to be boy crazy.  It seems to really work to her advantage that she can easily hang with the best of the boys and has never really been into all the “girly” type things like Barbies and dolls.  She definitely has a good amount of girl friends, but the child has a rapid-growing fascination with the male population now, as well.

     It started back in the fall when she became completely head over heels for this super cute little boy who could melt your heart with his smile. He seemed to really dig her, as well, because he was always doing things to try to impress her.  During the presidential election, he even taught her a thing or two about gambling. Apparently, they decided to bet each other over the outcome, and when the little boy lost the bet, he made a xeroxed copy of a ten dollar bill to pay off his debt.  Nothing like a little illegal activity to win over my girl!  My daughter still has the counterfeit bill proudly displayed on the bulletin board in her room.

     Then, of course, there’s the little Romeo who wooed her with the rose on Valentine’s Day, the boy who’s declared her “the queen of the playground”, the boy at the park district who thinks it’s the greatest when she tackles him to the ground, the boy who spontaneously busts out his stand-up routine every time he’s in her presence, the boy who spent his entire t-ball game dancing in the outfield to try to get her attention, and the list goes on and on.  And, naturally, my daughter gives it all right back, batting those great big eyes of hers and laughing at all the appropriate times.  If you ask me, it’s all just a bit too much flirting going on.

     I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for her to cruise down the path to heartbreak and headaches just yet.  This is my baby girl we’re talking about! These boys might be cute as buttons now, but we all know that soon enough they will be thinking with things other than their brains. Are there nunneries for six year olds???