Frankly My Dear, I Don't Care If You Drive On The Bare Rims

Oh, dear. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom can't stop telling tales out of...well...you know.

As Even Steven would have it, I was blessed with a new student on Wednesday. Exactly five days after the start of the new quarter. Five days after I had copied names into my old red gradebook that is so much handier than the computer gradebook program, what with keeping track of absences, missed assignments, and having a list of alphabetical scores to type in for the computer to do its averaging magic. So now that class is all out of kilter, I must remain ever-vigilant in score-entering. But that's not what we're here to hear tales of tonight.

I have had this newbie only one day so far, because of the parent conference schedule. I can hardly wait to see what lays in store for me on Monday. Okay. I can wait. But I'm on the edge of my rolly chair in front of New Delly in my dark basement lair.

Everybody knows that cell phones ain't allowed in school. Right? Like smokin' ain't allowed in school. Except they are, just a little bit, in the cafeteria and in the halls, unlike smokin'. But not in the classrooms, by cracky! That is a zero tolerance zone. No seeing, no hearing, no speaking by thumbtip or vocal cords. Turn that sucker off. Not on vibrate. Not on silent. Rip its guts out if it can't keep quiet.

So here's Newbie, sitting directly in front of my desk, nobody impeding my vision, the rest of the class taking the test. I could see she was turning her back on me. Reaching. Like a cop knows when a perp reaches for a weapon, a teacher knows when a teen reaches for a cell phone. So I announced, "I know I told you that you could listen to your music when you're done. That means you turn it on, then put your phone away. No fiddling with songs. No texting. Turn it on, put it up." I had to comment a couple other times. It wasn't for the benefit of my regular quarter-long students. I did not want to single out Newbie on the first day. But she just wasn't picking up what I was laying down. Not catching the hint. Finally, on the fourth time, she turned to look at me like I was a crazy woman.

"Yes. I'm talking to you. We do not allow cell phones in the classroom. The student handbook, which I'm sure they gave you, says so. If teachers see it or hear it, the policy is to take it away and turn it in to the office. The student gets an automatic day of in-school suspension. I know you've had that phone out at least four times. You need to put it away, or I'll have to take it."

I thought I made myself clear. I really did. I was giving her a break on her first day. But since I'd laid out the law, she would now have to abide. No excuses. She couldn't claim she didn't know. Did she thank Mrs. Hillbilly Mom for explaining the rules, so she wouldn't get her phone taken away? Did she nod and say, "Okay," and put the phone back in her pocket? What do YOU think?

"I was texting my grandma about getting tires for my car!" This, in a gravelly, grinding tone, as if the rage she was choking down was strangling her.

"Well, that's something you'll have to do on your personal time. Not on classroom time. Put your phone away, or I'll have to take it."

I swear she muttered something about this school or this rule sucking, and that it should be had sex with, though not by the F word.

Who do you think Mrs. Hillbilly Mom will have her eye on come Monday?