Things I Get Blamed For

Growing up I was a good kid, a freakishly good kid. I didn't break rules, get dirty and I hated to see my parents get mad. Some would say that I was a bit of a tattle-tale. I may have been known to go to my mom and say, "Mom, I don't want Ryan to get in trouble, so don't yell at him, but he did just punch me in the arm." Ryan maintains that I did this so I could have a clear conscience about ratting him out. But I clearly remember not wanting my mom to yell at him because I hated to see the conflict, but I also knew that bad things should be reported to the proper authorities. Ryan and I had a touch and go relationship until I worked out my tattling issues in my early 20's. I was innocent, I mean come on, look at this:

Seriously, could that kid do anything bad? Apparently as an adult I do not have the same reputation.

Someone has been pranking the men's staff bathroom in our building. The state test in AZ is called the AIMS test, and someone may have put a baggie of fruit loops by their toilet with a little note that said "this is the real aims test boys!" I heard a rumor that a picture of George Castansa wearing nothing but boxers and lounging on a chaise was hung on the wall. A rather large frog was placed by their door that has a motion sensor so it ribbits rather loudly when they open their door. All in good fun. Apparently as an adult, people assume that when trouble is afoot, I am clearly part of it. Yesterday a student came into my classroom with a handful of soggy fruit loops, with a message "Mr. K. said he passed." GROSS! The gauntlet has been thrown. I may or may not have been a part of the original prank, but I'm in it now.

Teachers frequently get blamed for the bad behavior of their students. I am proud to report that today, during an observation, my students were good, like Stepford good, for freshmen anyway. They raised their hands, they worked together, they completed the assignments without even whining. It was alarming. It was one of those moments where everything comes together in a perfect storm of awesomeness. Luckily my 4th period is always there to bring a healthy dose of reality. Last week a kid asked me where they speak Pig Latin. I told him it was a made up language. Apparently another teacher is screwing with him, because he asked me again today. I told him Piggonia. He spent 5 minutes looking for it on my map.