Students 1, Hillbilly Mom 1145
That's the tally to date, in my war against the students, over
bamboozling me into accepting their shenanigans. It was a shut-out
until yesterday, when the freshmen scored a direct hit. I am getting
old. I have been worn down this year by being SO PRETTY, and
being Lawyer's Choice for jury duty, and then that unfortunate
waking up during surgery incident. They got me. Fair and square.
It all started because I was feeling kindhearted. After half the year
of banging my head against the proverbial wall, I realized that I
would not be able to make chicken salad out of chicken s***. "I
might as well wallow in it," I figured. Running out of cliches, I turned
my attention to the class. During lunch count, Kid Wastes-My-Time
stood up and reached into his pocket. I remained unafraid. No
gun for this boy...most likely gum, because he was one of the main
suspects in GumballGate. Nope. It was a wad of money.
"Hey! I didn't know I had all this money on me!" He pulled out a
wad of bills.
"Me neither!" I pulled out a wad of bills. I have a habit of stuffing
then in the side of my purse, and hadn't wanted to leave it in the
car, so I'd put it in my pocket. "Let's play cards!" I told him,
eyeing the Las Vegas magnet on my whiteboard, a gift from my
buddy Mabel.
"Really?"
"No. I'm pretty sure I'd get in trouble for winning all your money
in a poker game."
"I have the cards."
"Nope. No can do."
By this time, he was standing at my desk with the cards in hand.
These kids listen to me about as well as my own children. I'd told
him earlier in the year that he couldn't bring his cards. They say
"Bacardi Vanilla." Well, they don't actually talk, but that is printed
on them in a white circle in the middle of the see-through cards. I
didn't want to take them away, because I'd started the whole card
thing.
"Hey," he said. "They really smell like vanilla. See?" He held one
out. Yes, I took it and sniffed it.
"No they don't." They really smelled like stale cigarette smoke, but
my Hillbilly Mama raised me right. I couldn't say anything nice, so
I didn't say anything at all.
"You have to scratch that circle. It's scratch 'n' sniff." Yes, I took
the card again and scratched it and sniffed it.
"HA HA HA! I can't believe you fell for that! You are as bad as
Ms. C!"
Fished in! Excellent! Party time! They got me. With a little deck
of cards, they ended my shut-out. Oh, how I hate vanilla. Always
have, always will.
I was not always so gullible. I didn't fall for the kid who said Coach
sent him to me to borrow a match. I also didn't fall for:
"It's in my locker."
"It's at home."
"My mom doesn't want me to do it at school. She wants to help me."
"I didn't take it. I just found it."
"My grandma bought it for me. No, my sister bought it for me."
"Can I borrow a pencil? I'll give it right back."
"He told me to."
"I didn't say it."
"You can't prove I did it."
"All the other teachers let me sleep in their class."
"I'm not late. I was in the office."
"Let's dissect this."
"I only threw it out the window because he told me it was OK."
"That's how the teacher said to do it."
"I don't like him, so I'm not doing his work. That'll show him."
"It's all done, but my mom thought it was trash and threw it away."
"It's in my other purse."
"It's home on the kitchen table."
"I left it in my backpack. My backpack was in the back of my truck
all night. It rained. So I put it in the oven this morning and forgot it."
"I have it at home on my computer."
"My mom wants me out of this class."
"All the other teachers had class outside today."
"The sub ate your candy you were giving us." OK, that one was true.
I must be vigilant now. I can not give them another victory.
bamboozling me into accepting their shenanigans. It was a shut-out
until yesterday, when the freshmen scored a direct hit. I am getting
old. I have been worn down this year by being SO PRETTY, and
being Lawyer's Choice for jury duty, and then that unfortunate
waking up during surgery incident. They got me. Fair and square.
It all started because I was feeling kindhearted. After half the year
of banging my head against the proverbial wall, I realized that I
would not be able to make chicken salad out of chicken s***. "I
might as well wallow in it," I figured. Running out of cliches, I turned
my attention to the class. During lunch count, Kid Wastes-My-Time
stood up and reached into his pocket. I remained unafraid. No
gun for this boy...most likely gum, because he was one of the main
suspects in GumballGate. Nope. It was a wad of money.
"Hey! I didn't know I had all this money on me!" He pulled out a
wad of bills.
"Me neither!" I pulled out a wad of bills. I have a habit of stuffing
then in the side of my purse, and hadn't wanted to leave it in the
car, so I'd put it in my pocket. "Let's play cards!" I told him,
eyeing the Las Vegas magnet on my whiteboard, a gift from my
buddy Mabel.
"Really?"
"No. I'm pretty sure I'd get in trouble for winning all your money
in a poker game."
"I have the cards."
"Nope. No can do."
By this time, he was standing at my desk with the cards in hand.
These kids listen to me about as well as my own children. I'd told
him earlier in the year that he couldn't bring his cards. They say
"Bacardi Vanilla." Well, they don't actually talk, but that is printed
on them in a white circle in the middle of the see-through cards. I
didn't want to take them away, because I'd started the whole card
thing.
"Hey," he said. "They really smell like vanilla. See?" He held one
out. Yes, I took it and sniffed it.
"No they don't." They really smelled like stale cigarette smoke, but
my Hillbilly Mama raised me right. I couldn't say anything nice, so
I didn't say anything at all.
"You have to scratch that circle. It's scratch 'n' sniff." Yes, I took
the card again and scratched it and sniffed it.
"HA HA HA! I can't believe you fell for that! You are as bad as
Ms. C!"
Fished in! Excellent! Party time! They got me. With a little deck
of cards, they ended my shut-out. Oh, how I hate vanilla. Always
have, always will.
I was not always so gullible. I didn't fall for the kid who said Coach
sent him to me to borrow a match. I also didn't fall for:
"It's in my locker."
"It's at home."
"My mom doesn't want me to do it at school. She wants to help me."
"I didn't take it. I just found it."
"My grandma bought it for me. No, my sister bought it for me."
"Can I borrow a pencil? I'll give it right back."
"He told me to."
"I didn't say it."
"You can't prove I did it."
"All the other teachers let me sleep in their class."
"I'm not late. I was in the office."
"Let's dissect this."
"I only threw it out the window because he told me it was OK."
"That's how the teacher said to do it."
"I don't like him, so I'm not doing his work. That'll show him."
"It's all done, but my mom thought it was trash and threw it away."
"It's in my other purse."
"It's home on the kitchen table."
"I left it in my backpack. My backpack was in the back of my truck
all night. It rained. So I put it in the oven this morning and forgot it."
"I have it at home on my computer."
"My mom wants me out of this class."
"All the other teachers had class outside today."
"The sub ate your candy you were giving us." OK, that one was true.
I must be vigilant now. I can not give them another victory.
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 6:09 PM
7 Comments:
Oh, the excruciating pain of falling victim to the "gotcha" of a juvenile. I've wised up a tad recently, but my kids have caught me slipping plenty of times. My personal favorite happened in the cafeteria. (This was not my brightest moment.) I was sitting across from an evil child named Bob. He looked at me with all the sincerity in the world and wiped at his mouth saying, "You got a little somethin' there Ms Ann." (Well in retrospect I see that this is the oldest thing in the book, but hey, it was reasonable because we were eating, and I wiped at my mouth with a napkin.) When I did, he said, "Ugly don't wipe off!" and broke into a screaming fit of the proudest laughter.
Yeah I know. Next thing you know they'll be pointing and screaming, "Look it's Elvis!"
Oh poor HBM. Seriously, I can't believe after describing these kids that you'd 'sniff' anything they brought to you.
Miss Ann,
If they ask, "Does your face hurt?" the correct reply is, "No. But YOURS is killing me."
Forewarned is forearmed, you know.
Mrs.,
I know. WHAT was I thinking?
Hi Hillbilly Mom,
Surely it is the war against Beclakia that is wearing you down, not those other trivial things.
Maybe if this kid has a wad of money, you might be able to get him to fall for the old "I'll look after that, so you don't lose it" trick.
HooRoo
Rebecca
Has no one ever used the "I have ADD" on one you? I got that one used on me when I was a substitute teacher. I also got "The baby kept me up all night and Mom wouldn't get up with him".
Now I'm just glad I work with the children who poop in their pants, wipe boogers on every surface in my home and slobber on me. At least they don't try to convince me that their dog ate their homework.
Bec,
So it WAS you who came up with that Nigerian money-drop e-mail scheme! I put the war out of my mind so I can think "I am SO PRETTY!"
Diva,
Several of my kids really have ADD, and if they try it, another one says, "We ALL have it, so that's not an excuse."
No poopers, wipers, or slobberers here, just liars, punchers, and whiners.
REDNECK DIVA--I once had to tell a child that the reason their graded paper was not being returned along with those of their classmates was because, "My cat ate your homework."
You decide which is sadder--1, I'm the teacher. 2, The cat really did eat her homework.
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