Y'all Suckas!

There are just some things you think would never happen. Ever.

It's the day before Thanksgiving Break.

I'm determined to have a semi-normal day in Room 206. We start out the morning with reading, writing, phonics, and our math quiz. Pretty typical Wednesday. Except for the fact that the students are so much more squirmy than usual. After lunch, it's Thanksgiving central in our room: we watched a movie on the history of Thanksgiving and why it is a holiday so many people celebrate, we discussed how Thanksgiving is a compound word (what are the two words inside and what they mean), and finally we brainstormed a list of things we can give thanks for this year. This culminated in our craft project: Thankful Turkeys.

Each student made a turkey, and on each of the feathers there was the sentence starter: "I am thankful for _____." The children wrote at least 4 things they are thankful for this year. Later, during Community Circle, we shared the things for which we are giving thanks. During the making of the turkeys, the kids got to use their favorite tools: crayons, markers, scissors, glue, and colored paper. I played some music and walked around, monitoring their work.

While passing by one group -- made entirely of boys -- I catch them giggling and blushing. When I look at them, they start shushing each other and will not make eye contact with me.
"What's going on over here?" I ask.
"Nothing, nothing, nothing!" They exclaim, still refusing eye contact and giggling loudly. Of course I know this is not the case.
"Really, boys, what is going on?" I start to give them the look.
"I didn't say it!" cries J, practically jumping out of his chair.
"Say what?" I was really suspicious now.
"No one said anything!" the other J said, without looking up. I could still see how red his face was, though.

I always carry sticky notes in my pocket and a pen on my lanyard in case I ever need to write a private note to a student. I take a sticky note out of my pocket and put it on J's desk. "Listen, guys, I know that you don't want to tell me what is going on, and it seems like you're embarrassed about it. That's ok, but I think we might need to talk about this. Since you won't tell me what's going on, I'm just leaving this sticky note right here, and when I come back, I'd like to see a note about what happened here. Thanks." I walked off, continuing to monitor other groups.

I came back a few minutes later to find the yellow post-it with a note scrawled in blue crayon. The note that almost made me pinch myself to make sure I was really there and it wasn't some ridiculous dream. On the post-it, in J's impeccable print, it said:

E said Ms. L has a hot butt.

I turned around to hide the horrified expression on my face. I couldn't hide the gasp, though. And then, immediately, I didn't want to have my back to them because apparently my students check out my butt?! Seriously?! I thought, What am I supposed to DO?! 

I shuffled sideways (so as not to have my butt at their eye level) away from their desks and went to work with other students while I attempted to come up with an appropriate game plan. I can't freak out because then they will continue comments like that only to get the reaction from me. I can't ignore it because it's ridiculously inappropriate. In all honesty, those are the times when being a teacher is the most difficult thing: when you have to react because you know that the amazing opportunity for a teachable moment is in front of you, but you have no idea what to do. No one prepares you for moments like that. How can they? I mean, if anyone had ever told me my second graders would be discussing my potential, ahem, assets (pun absolutely intended), I would have laughed in their faces. Seriously. Seriously!

Finally, I walked back over to their desks. I squatted down so as to be eye-level with them.
"So, guys, I'm your teacher, right?" I began, trying to hide my own giggle. By now it had sunk in how completely absurd this whole situation was.
"Yes."
"Here's the thing. It's really not ok for you to say things like that about or to your teacher. I mean, I can't tell you what to think, and I can't tell you it's wrong to think those things. But, it's really inappropriate and disrespectful to say those things to your teacher. Because now, it's kinda weird, isn't it? I can see you feel a little embarrassed around me, huh?"
They looked down, still bright red, and mumbled, "Yea..."
"But I want you to know: you're not in trouble. I'm not mad." To punctuate this point, I allowed the giant grin I was holding back to break through and I even giggled a little bit myself. "It's really ok. Just make sure it doesn't happen again, alright?"
"Ok."
"Can I tell you a secret?" I whispered loudly. They leaned in, looking excited as though they thought I might give them something for telling the truth. I smiled and cupped my hands around my mouth to make it seem like an even bigger secret, after quickly glancing around as though to be sure no one else was listening: "Girls don't like it when you say stuff like that to them!"
"Really?!" They asked, their eyes big.
"Yep. Really." I grinned again, savoring the triumph of my successful teachable moment.
"Oh." That was the only reply they could manage.
With that, I walked away. The rest of the afternoon I continued to feel paranoid about walking around, bending over to pick something up, squatting down next to a desk to talk to a student... For fear that more than just those boys had been looking at or talking about my behind.

I wish I had saved that post-it. I will always have it in my head; however, since the memory has been burned into my mind.

Kids say the darnedest things.