Have I mentioned that I am OH SO GLAD that the school year end is drawing nigh?
Today we had our special assembly to hand out recognition to high achievers. The seniors will graduate on Sunday, then the rest of us have another week to go. I don't have any seniors, but I have juniors. Who think they are the new seniors.
"Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, do you have any tissues? Because I'm going to cry my eyes out at that assembly when I see the seniors for the last time."
Let the record show that this lad was by no stretch of the imagination going to cry his eyes out, OR miss the seniors, as they have a low tolerance for his antics. As does Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, though she cannot show her displeasure in quite the same manner.
"Seriously, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, do you have any tissues?"
"They're right there by the pencil sharpener, where they've been for the last three years."
Let the record further show that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom had gotten out a new box of Puffs With Lotion just this morning, her second period class polishing off a box a week or more, perhaps the sickliest, most allergic children ever grouped into a singular class period, and so inept with the Germ-X that they were banned early-on from that disinfecting gel to save Mrs. HM's pocketbook and the spines and skulls of pupils after them who might slip in the puddles left behind.
I stepped out into the hall to put the kibosh on any planned shenanigans on this senior last day. A shout of, "Dude! Are you serious?" caught my ear. Rather common for this group currently wreaking havoc on the inside of my domain. I peered around the corner and saw that Crybaby had just flung a stack of Puffs With Lotion all the way across the room at a young man The Pony refers to as Rat Eyes, who had just flung an equal stack back. Puffs With Lotion littered the classroom floor.
"YES! ARE YOU SERIOUS? YOU HAVE JUST WASTED A WHOLE BOX OF TISSUES! THAT I PAY FOR. NOT THE SCHOOL. AREN'T YOU ENTITLED, DESTROYING MY STUFF FOR THAT LITTLE JOKE! HA HA. HOW FUNNY. NOW I HAVE TO GO BUY MORE TISSUES. GET THAT MESS CLEANED UP."
Let the record even further show that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has a very low tolerance for such cutesiness. In years past, one of her favorite mantras was, "You're not that cute, and you're not that funny." She did not even bother with that declaration this day, what with seeing the well-mannered pupils looking so very sorry that she had been faced with such an affront. Nothing licks one's virtual wounds like a cat's rough tongue or the visible pity of the majority of one's class roster.
Mrs. Hillbilly Mom does not condone violence. But if those seniors were to have a physical difference of opinion with Crybaby, she would UNDERSTAND.