Slept a solid 7.5 hours last night and felt pretty good this morning. A bit congested, a bit hoarse, a bit stiff and achy--no big deal. Went to work, felt pretty good. But it was just clown college today. The kids are all fired up because there's a field trip to the Science Center tomorrow and then Thanksgiving Break. They're already pretty unmanageable on a good day; when they are fired up, you just have to strap in and do your best.
I was a bit fuzzy-headed because of the cold, and wasn't as attentive as usual. I was catching a lot of bad actors who were throwing things back at the initiator; my timing was like Joe Flacco's on Sunday, just off enough to fuck up the day. Kids complained it was too hot in the room, so I turned on my fan and all the papers blew off my desk. Then later I moved the fan to another spot to avoid a repeat performance and started printing some question sheets. The printer of course was in line with the new fan position and all my question sheets blew out onto the floor.
Mr. E next door to me was quivering and quaking this morning and saying "I can't believe he's back in this school." "Who?" I asked. Apparently some gigantic ignoramus who got put out last year before I was transferred in is a student at the March again. He threw a molotov cocktail into Mr. E's room last year, fashioned out of a Mountain Dew bottle and M-60s. And then went after Mr. E. Mr. E is a large man who bench presses 300 pounds. I will leave it to you to imagine an 8th grader big enough to challenge him. I met him today. As I was walking through the cafeteria door he burst through it from the other side. I slid down the wall like Wile E. Coyote after a boulder splat. Then he burst into my room last period and said "I own this school!" I chased him out, but once I started thinking instead of reacting I was quaking on the inside. I haven't had anyone that big in my class room since I taught Derrick Battie at Temple U. in 1993. I can't believe that guy is a middle-schooler. He could stand at Mount Rushmore and look Abe in the eye. Abe would blink, too.
Six Faces was good today, but about fifteen minutes from the end of class she turned color. When her meds wear off she gets pink and flushed and I saw it and I tried to grab her but it was too late. Kicking, punching, pulling hair, jumping on the desk and shaking her ass, freak-dancing much smaller boys. I had to restrain her and carry her out into the hallway where she started swinging a sharpened pencil around. Then in Mr. E's room I heard a commotion and I looked over to see Clarice Starling throw a text book at He Has his Father's Eyes. He Has His Father's Eyes jumped up and charged her but Clarice nimbly stepped back and kicked him square in the balls. Mr. E and I both sucked in a sympathetic gulp of air. He was down for a good 8 minutes on the floor, rolling back and forth. Clarice got sent to the office but fifteen minutes later was sent back to class to get her belongings before going home on suspension. When she entered the room He Has His Father's Eyes charged her again and got another boot in the groin. Mr. E said "It's like the dog with the shock collar. It takes a couple times before he stops."