You don't know bad.

There are about two and a half tables of boys in my second period class today that I would love to string up by their toenails, no ifs, ands, or buts. Especially since that class has been devoid of one coteacher for the last three weeks. One of the boys even asked after her today: "Teacher, where is the ugly English teacher?" I tried to pretend I didn't know what he was talking about.

"What, you mean me?"

"Oh no! No! Ugly English Teacher! Korean!"

"You'll have to be more specific."

Only the smart kids at the front table got that joke.

"No! She have glasses! She old! Forty!"

"I don't know where she is."

At least I know no matter what else I am, the title of "Ugly English Teacher" is held by someone else....

Anyway, they were total beasts. Today we've been reviewing numbers, but I have my smart classes, so they've been finishing way ahead of time. So, Hangman it is. But I've got Mike's stumper of a time telling worksheet on hand for threat -- if they don't behave well enough and let me finish the lesson, it's the worksheet instead of the game.

Well, about three fourths of the way through second period, everyone had a time telling worksheet. That was just fine with them. They had no problems ignoring the first worksheet -- why not throw another on the pile? That is, until Gullible English Teacher, or whatever it is the little darlings call me, started walking from table to table telling each boy to put their name on the top of the worksheet and marking the quiet, well-behaved boys' worksheets with blue dots. One of the worst in the pack: "Teacher, why name?"

"So I know who they belong to when I take them up."

"Up? Up!?!"

"Yes. Up."

Panic. "Teacher! Teacher! How do you do?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe I explained it and you didn't hear because you were talking. Or maybe I just don't want to explain it because you made me tired and gave me a headache."

Went to the front of the room and proceeded to have a pleasant conversation with the quiet boys who were told the blue dot means they don't have to do the worksheet at all.

Little fuckers.

I did take the two worst out in the hall to have a little personal chat. They thought it was funny -- well, the dickhead ring leader thought it was funny. If there was one three minute window where I wish I could have spoken fluent Korean today, it would have been while I had that kid in the hall. Something along the lines of, look you little shit. I know you think you're well hard sitting in the back of the room and only half-assedly managing to ignore the lesson. I know you thought coming in and sitting in your seat and making pornographic moaning noises was going to cause me to flip my lid. But I'm a fucking American, you fuck. An American who lived in Brooklyn for five years. There's not a whole fucking lot you can do to shock or upset me. I've done things you don't even know exist outside of movies. I understand that rolling your eyes and popping your collar makes you some kind of badass here, but I'm not fucking interested.

The next time that kid starts shit, I'm going to just tell him to get out of my class. I don't care where he goes -- I'm not even going to interrupt the lesson long enough to come up with a discipline for him. He's just getting out. He can smoke crack in the bathroom for all I care, so long as I don't have to look at his smug little face. And if someone wants to say something to me about my students wandering around in the halls during class time, that's fine -- I'll just ask where my ugly coteacher is.

Anyway, the other three classes I've had today have more than made up for it. I was a little worried I would take second period out on third, but the second the boys started coming in with their big fantastic smiles and, "Hi Teacher!".... well I could give a fuck about second period, anyway.

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