"Not as mean as me" he responded, trudging down the stairs with a serious look on his face. A crying girl followed him.
I like my job. I like where I work. But these new state mandated pre-tests are turning me into a fucking raging bitch. I'm like Jekyll and Hyde. The kids are looking at me, wondering where this new mean Spanish teacher came from.
"When piranhas bite your private parts!" I looked up from my grading toward the hall. I had never heard anything rhyme with that before.
I walked outside to my next class.
"It's a pre-test! It doesn't mean anything!" I overheard another teacher barking at small group of kids.
"I saw a bad word written on a piece of paper today" announced a kid that has befriended me, eyes widening.
"Really?" I answered, imaging this word was 'poop' or 'butt hole' or something equally offensive.
He looked around suspiciously, then leaned closer to me.
"MOTHER FUCKER"
Jesus. That is a word.
I received a note from a 'secret admirer' stating that I am the 'best Spanish teacher in the business'. I got another little note today, applauding me for being 'caring' and making Spanish fun. I suspect it is the child with the big head writing these clandestine messages, or some other strange creature. I don't care. I carry them around in my wallet and pull them out to re-read several times a day.
I piled my stuff into my school bag to head out.
"Oh man, I have to go to the variance meeting tonight about some construction plans my neighbors have...." I mentioned off hand to a co-worker, grimacing.
"Oh! I know what you should say to them! 'I hate you, you hate me, you're a big fat bitch, hate your bitch family, MOTHER FUCKER!'" she sang triumphantly.
"I learned that from a piece of paper I found at school today!" she added, smiling merrily.
Kids these days.
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