White Flag

What this thing that's on the ground behind me? I was waving it. Now I'm sitting at the computer, drinking bourbon.

Now, you see, when they offered me a choice of classes - I actually chose to take the grade nine's. I really like teenagers. No, really, I do. They can be a bit of a handful, but they are smart and have a great sense of justice, they like new ideas (but not change) and if you can get them interested, they care so much about the world.

They told me it was a class of 17, but 3 students were absent today. I thought that seemed really small.

They told me, as I was about to go into this class that they were "special ed". Actually they told me they were "K and E". I nodded dumbly. I didn't know what K and E might mean. I still don't. But I think I have a pretty good idea now.

I had 3 kids that fell asleep, but that was ok, since they couldn't hit, poke or talk to someone while they were sleeping. I didn't feel any urge to wake them up.

They promised me that there would always be an adult in the room. Their homeroom teacher told me "they were much better". They used to be much worse.

They didn't tell me that they were like overheated popcorn, liable to explode at any moment. They didn't tell me that "protection" was not a safe word to use with teenage boys. I knew about not talking about things that were even remotely sexual or related to undergarments, but protection? There's a problem talking about protection?

Oh, and did I mention about how they left me alone with them? In the gym? With basketballs and lacrosse sticks? yeah. . . . .

I'm going back to my drink.

Thanks for your prayers, they availed much. After all, I didn't swear.