The conversation went something like this:
girl: I can't believe you said that.
boy: Why?
girl: Because it made me mad!
boy: That is why I said it.
girl: Why would you want to make me mad?
boy: I've never seen you mad before.
girl: Sure you have. I've been mad plenty of times.
boy: I've never seen you mad at me. I wanted to see what that would be like.
girl: (speechless)
As a proctor at our local middle school for the end of the year testing, I have to find ways to engage my mind since a three-hour period is a long time to walk around a classroom, looking over kids' shoulders to make sure they aren't cheating. I'm always grateful when someone "needs" to go to the restroom. So I count the students based on varying criteria, categorize them and sometimes even make up stories about them.
Half of the students were wearing hoodies, obviously to ward off frost bite since the temperature of the room was similar to that of a walk-in freezer. The one with pink polka-dots got my vote. Nike shoes and Rainbow sandals seem to be the footwear of choice. Most of the students had varying shades of black to brown hair, with two on the blonde side of the hair color spectrum. One kid wore glasses. There was one redhead.
A few of them realized that I was in fact their math teacher's wife and this left them wondering what kind of a home life he must have. I wondered which of these students were the cause of their teacher's thoughts of retirement.
As I gazed upon the fresh faces of tomorrow, young people not yet knowing who they are with their braces glittering in the fluorescent lighting of the room, I wondered what was going on in the minds of the girls with the lip gloss and painted nails; the kids who could use more time in the gym and less in the cafeteria; and the boys who may continue to wear athletic clothing every day of their school lives. Would the girl who kept fixing her hair find more meaningful pursuits? Would the self-confident boy who asked me boldly how I was doing find a leadership role in society? Would the kids who kept sniffling, forced to use pieces of cardboard-like paper towel to continue to blow their noses, ever regain their health? Would that boy try to make that girl mad again?
Testing had ended. The redhead and I exchanged a knowing smile.
girl: I can't believe you said that.
boy: Why?
girl: Because it made me mad!
boy: That is why I said it.
girl: Why would you want to make me mad?
boy: I've never seen you mad before.
girl: Sure you have. I've been mad plenty of times.
boy: I've never seen you mad at me. I wanted to see what that would be like.
girl: (speechless)
As a proctor at our local middle school for the end of the year testing, I have to find ways to engage my mind since a three-hour period is a long time to walk around a classroom, looking over kids' shoulders to make sure they aren't cheating. I'm always grateful when someone "needs" to go to the restroom. So I count the students based on varying criteria, categorize them and sometimes even make up stories about them.
Half of the students were wearing hoodies, obviously to ward off frost bite since the temperature of the room was similar to that of a walk-in freezer. The one with pink polka-dots got my vote. Nike shoes and Rainbow sandals seem to be the footwear of choice. Most of the students had varying shades of black to brown hair, with two on the blonde side of the hair color spectrum. One kid wore glasses. There was one redhead.
A few of them realized that I was in fact their math teacher's wife and this left them wondering what kind of a home life he must have. I wondered which of these students were the cause of their teacher's thoughts of retirement.
As I gazed upon the fresh faces of tomorrow, young people not yet knowing who they are with their braces glittering in the fluorescent lighting of the room, I wondered what was going on in the minds of the girls with the lip gloss and painted nails; the kids who could use more time in the gym and less in the cafeteria; and the boys who may continue to wear athletic clothing every day of their school lives. Would the girl who kept fixing her hair find more meaningful pursuits? Would the self-confident boy who asked me boldly how I was doing find a leadership role in society? Would the kids who kept sniffling, forced to use pieces of cardboard-like paper towel to continue to blow their noses, ever regain their health? Would that boy try to make that girl mad again?
Testing had ended. The redhead and I exchanged a knowing smile.
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