Oh boy! Sleep! That's when I'm a Viking!

Last night I had one of those dreams where I thought I had a great idea for a blog post. In my dream, I wrote about some hilarious thing that happened in one of my classes, and I remember thinking, "God, this is pretty darn funny! Erin will read it to Anna, and they'll both laugh!" Then I thought, "But this is a dream. Did this really happen? Will I remember it tomorrow?"

Today, I find myself with no memory of the post's content, and no sense of whether it really was based on reality. Oh well. Duh.

I spent today listening intently to my classes, hoping for writing fodder, feebly grasping at moments of levity, incongruity and insight, all of which slipped from me as I answered the intercom, or gathered back work, or had to leave my room to make way for another teacher.

I finally gave up.

Because I am a person firmly grounded in reality I will offer today's statistics in lieu of my fantasy post.

6: Number of Saturdays until I visit Nora in Venice.

5: The average number of seniors absent from each class today.

4: The number of phone calls I made (in between classes) trying to arrange to pay my son's tuition for the fall.

3: The number of seniors who told me they don't think they'll graduate this June because they still haven't passed a Regents exam they should have passed in 10th grade.

2: The number of students who showed up to mod 8 whom I hadn't seen in a week and a half.

2: The number of former students who came back to visit me with excited reports about their first year in college.

2: The number of beers I drank on my deck when I got home from school.

1: The number of seniors who told me they're pregnant.

1: The number of seniors who told me they're about ready to drop out of school even though graduation is on June 27th.

1: The number of former students' obituaries I found in today's paper.

1: The number of boxes of already-opened granola bars I received because they "tasted like bark, and I know you like to eat healthy."

All in all, it was a good day. Or at least it was a normal day.

Will you be my mommy? You smell like dead bunnies . . .

Random discussion before class begins
Quinci: So Boo-Boo is bigger than you, right?

Yogi: Yeah. My brother's a lot heavier. And taller. That's why everyone always says, "Hey! Boo-Boo can't be bigger than Yogi!"

During a class discussion of a review of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Me: So the first Indiana Jones movie came out in 1981.

Cheryl: Wow. That was a long time ago. How old were you? 16?

Me: You just got some extra points. No. I was 20.

Quinci: 20. Wow. My mother is younger than you.

Me: Hmmm. Yes. Well, anyway . . .

Guy: So you're . . .

Me: Yes. I'm dumb old. Wait. Should I say "mad old" instead?

Jamie: Yeah. "Mad old" sounds better.

Me: Okay. So. Back to the review . . .

Cheryl (interrupting): So was that Indiana Jones movie in black and white?


Another random discussion during the last two minutes of class
Cheryl (to Yogi): Does your house smell like curry?

Yogi: What? Why?

Cheryl: Guyanese people smell like curry.

Yogi: My house doesn't smell like curry.

Breenah: White people smell like spaghetti.

Cheryl: And when it rains, they smell like wet dogs.

Me: What? Wet dogs?

Yogi: I don't know about that.

Me: What??

Quinci: What do Pakistani people smell like?

Cheryl: Curry.

Yogi: Does everyone smell like curry?

Breenah: No. Black people smell like must.

Quinci: Hey! I don't smell like that.

Breenah: Well, just the boys, and if they don't shower.

Me: Wait a minute. I smell like wet dogs??

Yogi: No, you don't. Cheryl just thinks everyone smells like curry anyway.

Me: So why don't I smell like curry??

Cheryl: No, I mean, white people have pets, and when it rains, they smell like their . . .

Yogi (interrupting): Do you just look at people and see them as food? I bet you do.

Cheryl (laughing): No, I mean, maybe . . .

Yogi: See? It's true! She does!

Me: Wait. I smell like wet dogs? And spaghetti? Why can't I smell like curry?

Yogi:No, Miss. You smell fine. But we'll say you smell like curry if you want us to.

Me fail English? That's unpossible.

Mark: How long is this movie review supposed to be?

Me: I told you on the assignment sheet I gave you yesterday, and which is sitting on your desk right in front of you.

Mark: It's easier for you to tell me.

Me: No, it's actually not.

Jen: So we're writing about two movies? Comparing them?

Me: What? No. Look at the assignment sheet, which I distinctly remember going over in class yesterday and which you have in front of you. It says write about one movie that you choose.

Jen: So it does it have to be one we did in class?

Me (taking a deep breath): Any movie that you choose. It could be one we saw during class, or it could be one you saw on your own, in a theater or at home.

Jen: But I didn't see all of Stranger Than Fiction last week. I was absent, remember?

Me (taking a deeper breath): That's why the assignment can be about ANY movie you want to write about.

Anthony: I bet you're having us write about a movie because we didn't read the book you left when the sub was here and they all disappeared.

Me: That's a good guess, Anthony.

George: But Miss, five to seven paragraphs is mad long. I can't write that much.

Me: Don't worry about the length right now. Just get started on one point and get that part roughed out. Besides, paragraphs can be all different lengths . . .

George (interrupting): No, they're supposed to be three or four sentences long.

Me: Where did you learn that??

Kira: So how long is this supposed to be?

Me (head buried in hands, groaning audibly): Read the assignment sheet again, please.

George: Miss, why do you stress yourself about us? You should just let us take the easy way.

(Murmurs of agreement from other parts of the room.)

Me: Hmmm, let me think about that . . . . um . . . . no.

George: Miss, I'll be honest with you. I've just been doing the bare mininum this year.

Me: Thanks for making that clear.