Antics
by Nancy—Age 34—Brecksville, OH
My job? High school English teacher. Specifically, I teach regular and honors tenth-grade English, plus one section of creative writing. Most of us have survived high school, and we know what English teachers do—they assign essays, make kids read out loud, lecture endlessly about blah blah blah stuff, stuff like Transcendentalism, and how Hawthorne used symbolism in The Scarlet Letter, and why plagiarism is bad. But what do I do, really do all day? I do assign essays, provide stimulating lectures (ahem), and facilitate my students’ mastery of the Ohio Language Arts standards. But in one small section of my head, I sit back and watch the madness that is high school: second period, Frankie and Jordan will crack a joke about Mrs. Johnson, their (large-ish, boring-ish) first period math teacher, at which I will guiltily laugh. Devon will drum endlessly on his desk; I will fight to ignore him. Monica will apply more mascara, and pass the wand to Serena. Danielle will unload her latest tale of parental drunkenness—if I have a minute for her at the end of class. Fourth period, Ken will work his ass off to get me off task by complementing my shoes or begging me to see his newest iPod playlist. Shane will back up Ken and ask me about my weekend, even if it’s Wednesday. Megan and Lynette will answer every challenging question I allow them to tackle. Chrissy and Gwen will doodle dark and depressing hairdos. Sixth period, Johnny and Shaun will make me laugh so hard chalk comes out of my nose, usually with a knock-knock joke I first heard in second grade. Mary will raise her hand exactly 438 times, sometimes with comments about her cat’s fleas, sometimes not. Seventh period, Jessica will spill her Vitamin Water and swear loudly. Heba will wonder out loud if her college-age boyfriend is faithful, distracting me from the pink puddle under Jessica’s desk. Rob will draw rather than journal. Bethany will smirk in the back and look prom-queenly. Eighth period, Andy and Sean will smack each other several times. Josh and Ricky will come in late, if at all. Lilya and Nataliya will pray not to get called on, prayers I sometimes honor. Mark will throw things out the window when I’m not looking. Cory will sleep.
The 2:45 bell rings; tomorrow, the madness goes on.
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