Punch Drunk

I finished teaching on Thursday of last week. This week is "observation", meaning I'll sit in the back of the room and grade things while my co-op goes back to teaching her (my) students. Evidently, I'm a little punch drunk from this semester and my professionalism with the students is slipping.

I was standing out in the hall when our after-lunch class (sophomores, so they're "little") came in, and I faked a punch at one of the boys, TD. He seemed rather taken aback. "What's gotten into you?"

One of the girls, YA, came over and tipped her head at me. "You're shorter than I thought," she said, and TD nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "we're used to you trekking around the English room like..." and did a dead-on impression of my teacher walk. First of all, I love that he said "trekking". Second, I love that TD, who gives me such a headache and is at least an inch taller than me, walked on his toes to get my walk right. Anyway, it's true. Not only have I given up my 3-inch heels for the semester, I've also abandoned my professional, ram-rod teacher posture, so I may now be a solid five inches under what I have been. "You're kinda short, I'm not gonna lie, Miss C," TD said.

I protested and CW -- another one of my boys who also has a couple inches over me -- said, "No, you are."

Well, fine.

Right as class was starting and I hunkered down with my tower of tests, KG and CW started talking about Spiderman 3, which I had the distinct pleasure of seeing this weekend. I proceeded to talk about it with them even as my co-op was trying to start class, and continued to respond when the kids tried to engage me in side conversations. I am, in short, my own worst nightmare.

On the warm fuzzy side, a few of the kids are on a no-kidding campaign to keep me from going to Texas and to teach at A.I. instead. They think of every possible reason I should stay. Among them:

"It's hot in Texas."
"We already like you."
"You talk too fast. People in Texas won't understand you like we do."
"There's no way the nuns are as much fun as we are."
"No, Miss C, seriously. I actually did good on your test. That never happens."

It's almost tempting, honestly. And the fact that these kids make me almost think about maybe not going after my dream of four years says something -- about them.