Thursday, February 15, 2007

LIke whoa...

I was a very precocious child. I liked to say things that would get at people. I was nosey. I was observant. I was anything but shy. This usually meant I said pretty much whatever I was thinking and then paid the consequences when my mother finally got me home.

I feel like I'm retroactively paying the consequences now. These consequences are named Isabel. Isabel is the embodiment of every nosey, curious, pushy comment I ever made. Times ten. Isabel not only has no internal sensor, she has a serious need for attention and a serious aggressive streak when it comes to my personal life. I'd really love to find out why, but this may just be another mystery of the seventh grade mind.

To preface, my love life has always been fodder for my students. They have been seriously convinced of my love affair with Mr. Graham (the teacher across the hall... who has a serious girlfriend) since early August. A comment or two every once in a while is not really anything that gets to me anymore. Perhaps I've let my guard down a bit because I was seriously not prepared for the wrath of Isabel when I made friends with a new teacher at my school.

Barrett is a new eighth grade teacher at my school and besides being a Mac snob (yes, I'm not alone anymore!) he's good people and good company. We've become friends and so see each other at school... usually to throw around insults and for him to lose to me in a constant battle of wits. Unfortunately, my school is so small and chatty that being friends and being in each others rooms apparently means we are dating (or so my assistant principal and like half the adult staff members assume).

In my students world, Barrett bringing me a soda in class when I didn't feel well means we are most definitely an item. I have apparently left Mr. Graham in the dust and upgraded for an 8th grade teacher. My students total unabashed comments and "ohhs" and "ahhs" when he was in the room took me so off guard that the minimal control I hold over my blushing was completely lost. Thus, securing in their minds forever that I am indeed in love with a social studies nerd. I could deal with this misguided interpretation of my love life if it weren't for Isabel.

For some reason this child thinks it is appropriate to call Barrett "Ms. Thompson lover" to his face. She also thinks that the best thing to do when Saul asks me if I feel better is to shout across the room "Yeah, I bet Mr. Doke made her feel better." Thus causing more blushing and more loss of control in my classroom. The kicker came this week when, again, I was asked if I was pregnant (wonderful for my self-esteem) and Isabel decided to yell out "Oh my god, you're having Mr. Doke's baby?!" Um, not even close, but thanks for that.

Now my students are in a constant battle over who has the correct facts. Am I dating Mr. Doke or Mr. Graham? Am I having a baby? Could I possibly also be dating Mr. Orduna or Mr. Martin? With Isabel constantly fueling the fire I'm unsure this debate will ever end.

I'm still trying to gather how we went from sentence fragments to dating another teacher to pregnancy to pregnancy by a man I've known two weeks in less than four sentences before I call Isabel's parents and tell them if they don't do something about their child I'm going to drop kick her out a window. What an akward parent phone call to make.

The only thing that I find slightly humorous about all this is that there are probably a lot of people out there who find my darling Isabel to be a very fitting and amusing form of cosmic retribution.

I can't wait until someday when she gets hers. And boy will she get hers.

1 comment:

you know who said...

we've upgraded to blog insults now? prepare for the wrath, for its a-coming

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