I want to preface this post by making it perfectly clear that I'm not complaining. Not in the least. To complain about a GOOD thing is to ensure that it will take a terrible turn for a BAD thing. So, no. Not complaining.
Not. At. All.
But, see - here's the thing. I have an incredibly nice group of students this year. And while that's certainly a GOOD thing for my work life, blood pressure and overall mood stability; it also happens to be a BAD thing for dinner conversation, hollow victories in arguments over 'which one of us has it worse,' and for blogging. Especially for blogging.
But even though I no longer have to keep my handbag locked up in my car, perform daily checks on the underside of my desks for scribbled death threats, and am now able to cancel that extra life insurance policy I took out, if I pay veeeery close attention I can still find a tiny little gem every now and then. Like this one. And so it goes...
Mike and Brandon sit next to one another in my Honors American Lit class. Mike is of a rare breed in that he is taking AP coursework, yet doesn't come from an educated, wealthy family. Rather, he is the surrogate father for his little brothers and sisters, while mom - who's single - scrapes together a living at the local WalMart. I suspect Mike may be in over his head with his current schedule, but is something of a workhorse - possessing both amazing focus and humbling drive. He also lives and breathes hunting, and if you know nothing else about him, you should probably know that. (He sincerely wears wildlife sweatshirts, if that helps to visualize things a bit.)
Inversely, Brandon comes from a very stable, comfortable home with two highly literate parents who strive to provide him with all the necessary tools for success. He is kind, well-spoken, endlessly polite, completely void of sarcasm, and has excellent posture. Of course, he’s also on the tennis team.
Mike and Brandon are not friends, but they sit next to one another in my 5th hour. Being both very nice young men, they often make awkward attempts at conversation before class (since they are always early, of course). The subject of today’s chat was MADE – the MTV reality show that takes a kid with a dream and provides him with a few months of expert training in the hopes that he can fulfill said dream. As it turns out, MADE will be holding auditions at our high school in the near future, and the kids (understandably) are all a buzz.
So, it’s three minutes or so before the bell is due to ring, and Brandon - maintaining impossibly perfect posture - turns to Mike to initiate this little chat:
P.S. I've always wanted to be a prima ballerina despite never having taken a lesson, and with the proper dress and hairstyling I can maybe still pass for eighteen. Move over, kids. Mrs. W is 'bout to get MADE!
Not. At. All.
But, see - here's the thing. I have an incredibly nice group of students this year. And while that's certainly a GOOD thing for my work life, blood pressure and overall mood stability; it also happens to be a BAD thing for dinner conversation, hollow victories in arguments over 'which one of us has it worse,' and for blogging. Especially for blogging.
But even though I no longer have to keep my handbag locked up in my car, perform daily checks on the underside of my desks for scribbled death threats, and am now able to cancel that extra life insurance policy I took out, if I pay veeeery close attention I can still find a tiny little gem every now and then. Like this one. And so it goes...
Mike and Brandon sit next to one another in my Honors American Lit class. Mike is of a rare breed in that he is taking AP coursework, yet doesn't come from an educated, wealthy family. Rather, he is the surrogate father for his little brothers and sisters, while mom - who's single - scrapes together a living at the local WalMart. I suspect Mike may be in over his head with his current schedule, but is something of a workhorse - possessing both amazing focus and humbling drive. He also lives and breathes hunting, and if you know nothing else about him, you should probably know that. (He sincerely wears wildlife sweatshirts, if that helps to visualize things a bit.)
Inversely, Brandon comes from a very stable, comfortable home with two highly literate parents who strive to provide him with all the necessary tools for success. He is kind, well-spoken, endlessly polite, completely void of sarcasm, and has excellent posture. Of course, he’s also on the tennis team.
Mike and Brandon are not friends, but they sit next to one another in my 5th hour. Being both very nice young men, they often make awkward attempts at conversation before class (since they are always early, of course). The subject of today’s chat was MADE – the MTV reality show that takes a kid with a dream and provides him with a few months of expert training in the hopes that he can fulfill said dream. As it turns out, MADE will be holding auditions at our high school in the near future, and the kids (understandably) are all a buzz.
So, it’s three minutes or so before the bell is due to ring, and Brandon - maintaining impossibly perfect posture - turns to Mike to initiate this little chat:
Brandon: “Have you heard that MADE is doing casting calls here?”Don't know about you, but I'm an absolute sucker for fifteen-year-old suburban kids who talk like 50-year-old British socialites. And maybe that story wasn't gold, but a girl's got to work with the material she's been given, yes? Perhaps I'll get lucky tomorrow and someone will accidentally set something or someone aflame...
Mike: “Yeah. I reckon it’s a bit weird, huh?”
B: “Perhaps. So, what do you think you’d want to be made into, should you be selected for the show?”
M: “Oh God…I don’t know. I’m just a redneck, you know? I don’t think they’d put someone like me on MTV.”
B: [smiling, and sincere] “A redneck, eh? Well, perhaps they could make you into a gentleman.” [wink!]
M: --- [frowns, furrows his brow, politely adverts his gaze and shuffles his feet while the sound of imaginary crickets fill the uncomfortable silence]
P.S. I've always wanted to be a prima ballerina despite never having taken a lesson, and with the proper dress and hairstyling I can maybe still pass for eighteen. Move over, kids. Mrs. W is 'bout to get MADE!
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