Ugly Teacher

Nearly every day, I come home and tell my roommate or inform my boyfriend about something nutso that happened at work.   I am an English teacher, so of course I love writing far more than the students do.  I’ve been told that I have a lot of good stories to tell, and more than anything, I don’t want to forget the ones that make me laugh.  So, I recently decided to take up writing a blog; hopefully because of this, when something horrifying happens to me at work, which happens often when teaching urban, middle school students, I can at least reconcile myself with the fact that I will be able to write about it later on.

Something happened today that reminds me that the students don’t think that I have feelings like they do.  It was casual Friday, which means we get to wear jeans and our school apparel.  I, personally, love Fridays.  I think I look cute in jeans and a sweatshirt and have always felt that I can rock the sporty look.  I was an athlete in college, and continue to work out fairly religiously, so this outfit (minus the jeans) is very natural to me.

Well, first hour rolls around I am trying to get class to start.  I am beginning with their directions in a fairly loud voice, signifying a lack of complete control.  Collin, a student that never really participates looks up at me and raises his hand.  I am pretty excited because Collin is one of the less engaged students.  “Yes Collin, what’s up?” I ask.

“Ms. B, how come some days you look beauutttifulll and some days you’re just uggllly?”

Now, I don’t know if Collin was still salty because I told him that I told him that it was inappropriate for him to ask me if I would go to the school dance with him, but I would like to think that this was the reason.

How do you answer that question?  As somebody who is never at a lack for words, I just stood their, all ugly and everything.  I raised one, ugly eyebrow at him and then I pointed my ugly, sporty sweatshirt at the door and said, “Alright class, we’re returning our books, let’s go!”