Eventful Days

I was out all night, so it was a royal pain to have to get up for school when my husband had the luxury of staying in bed.
School was uneventful except for one very funny incident that somehow came up in class.
C.C.K. said something about her being one of 10 children. Another girl, I don't remember who, said something about a family who had 16 children, and the media was making such a big deal of it. She couldn't understand what was so huge, because many Jewish families have lots of kids.
So E.F.G. raised her hand to say that the typical American family has a girl, boy, a cat, and a dog.
The class laughed, but then someone, I think it was M.L, asked me why it was that the "typical American family" had about two kids while we had so many. She wanted to know who decided on the amounts.
Immediately, a few girls began smirking, and I felt all the blood leave my face.
It's the kind of situation where you'll get in trouble for whatever you say, and if you don't say anything, it becomes a big issue with the girls who were smirking.
In an instant, I had an answer, and it came to me out of nowhere. "That's how we see how special we are as a nation." I told the girls. "Hashem knows that maybe they can't handle having 10 children so he doesn't send them 10 special souls. He trusts us to raise children well, to be able to give each child what he or she needs, and that's why we are given more children."
Even the smirking ones stopped smirking long enough to ponder this idea.
Now that was a close one!
I was up until forever marking their essays on "My Special Day," while my husband was making supper. (!)
The supper wasn't ready by the time I fell into bed, but I was so tired, I ignored my stomach and promptly fell asleep.
My husband took all phone calls that night and told all my friends that heaven help them should they call and wake me up before 10 Monday morning.
Monday was just a bad day. I don't know if it's because it'd the beginning of the week, or just because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
The kids were terrors. I couldn't get a word in edgewise with all the calling out I had all day.
R.H. was really taking advantage of her seat in the front, and using it to have personal conversations with me all day. I guess she thinks she's above raising her hand.
C.K. was still a problem. Calling out, making stupid comments, basically acting as the "class clown." My patience ran very thin.
When I reviewed history, C.K. interrupted me to ask me some dumb questions that wasted half of my day.
L.K. also raised her hand a MILLION times to tell me stories. I kept trying to ignore her hand, but she would start oohing and it got on my nerves. L.K. also kept raising her hand to tell me that they had learned this material a few years ago, and she was bored.
I lost it there. I banged on the desk and got everyone quiet. "Don't make me walk out of this classroom with a different opinion of you than I had when I walked into this classroom." The class was quiet, and I was able to finish my lesson.
In the other class, I noticed a friendship I didn't like starting to evolve. G.S., a major bully, was turning around to talk to R.R. my insecure. learning disabled kid, all through class.
I kept telling them to face front, and even warned them a couple of times, but this friendship was what bothered me more than the talking during class. G.S. is a bully who has no friends. She is using R.R. so that she can look at her disabilities and give her ego an even bigger boost.
R.R. is this insecure thing who gets very excited when a girl like G.S. actually notices her. Something will have to be done.
the principal came around to introduce the girls to our new guidance counselor. I was pretty impressed at the way the girls reacted. Usually, I would've expected a lot of snickering and maybe even some giggling, but these girls were just looking and listening, trying to get to know her. (If I know these girls, they're just sizing her up so that they can make her miserable! Hah ha aha aha hah!)
But seriously, C.C.K. and C.S.A were both looking at her in awe, as if they couldn't wait to run down to her and pour out their hearts.
The truth is, I wasn't a seventh grader so long ago that I shouldn't remember what going to a guidance counselor means.
It means ridicule and embarrassment once your classmates find out. I have no doubts that the timeless story will play out in this school, in this grade again.