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Guest
As I pass by, Kiddo X (my walking disaster of an eighth grader), reaches out a hand and yanks a hair elastic out of little Maria's textbook, where she's been using it for a place marker. (All names changed to protect the innocent and the guilty.)
I stop. "OK, Kiddo X, give me that," I say.
"What?"
"What you just took from Maria's desk."
"I didn't take anything. It's mine, I just put it over there." (I also have a kid who when told "Stop doing that," shouts "I didn't even make no gun noises.")
"Give it to me."
"Whaaaaat? I told you, I didn't take anything. OK, OK, here!" Holds out a hand with...four buttons.
Huh?
"No, what you took from Maria's book. Give it to me."
"These are my buttons, Achmed will tell you. Right Achmed?" Achmed is happy to stop doing work and agree with this.
"I'll talk to you after class, Kiddo X," I say, and turn away. While he protests, he opens his other hand. Hair elastic. "That." I say. "Give that to me."
"Give me my buttons first." Aaaargh. I get the silly elastic. I bring it back to Maria, who hadn't noticed it was gone.
While people are illustrating our vocabulary words, we talk. Rather, I talk, and he stares past me and laughs uproariously at Achmed and another kid who are fooling around. I repeat, calmly and quietly, about eight times, that he took another person's property, lied about it, and is not being respectful to me.
He returns, when I can get his attention, that he didn't kill anyone, it's not a big deal, the elastic was his, he found it on the floor, OK, OK, if it makes me happy, he took it, am I happy now? The reason he's not talking is because I jump down his throat about everything, I'm always being mean to him.
Around round six he says "Oh, oh, are you calling me a thief now?"
I say "Kiddo X, that is the word we use for someone who takes another person's things without permission."
OK, rant over. What a stupid mess, over a rubber band! I've asked our VP to meet with me and this kid, but he's not going to bother unless I nag him to death, and maybe not then. I feel kind of tapped out with this kid--he's really going to sink like a rock in high school, and all his teachers here are worried to death, but apparently the administration isn't going to care until he's guest starring on COPS.
He will be the guy with the bag of cocaine that was not his, he was holding it for a friend, and he did not know what was in it, and actually it was not his friend's, he just found it on the street, and was going to bring it to the police anyway, and anyway, he didn't kill anyone, so what's the big deal, and the police have to give him his car keys back, those are his keys, and they can't take them.
Maria will probably be the cadet riding along for the arrest. She wants to go into the Navy after high school.
I stop. "OK, Kiddo X, give me that," I say.
"What?"
"What you just took from Maria's desk."
"I didn't take anything. It's mine, I just put it over there." (I also have a kid who when told "Stop doing that," shouts "I didn't even make no gun noises.")
"Give it to me."
"Whaaaaat? I told you, I didn't take anything. OK, OK, here!" Holds out a hand with...four buttons.
Huh?
"No, what you took from Maria's book. Give it to me."
"These are my buttons, Achmed will tell you. Right Achmed?" Achmed is happy to stop doing work and agree with this.
"I'll talk to you after class, Kiddo X," I say, and turn away. While he protests, he opens his other hand. Hair elastic. "That." I say. "Give that to me."
"Give me my buttons first." Aaaargh. I get the silly elastic. I bring it back to Maria, who hadn't noticed it was gone.
While people are illustrating our vocabulary words, we talk. Rather, I talk, and he stares past me and laughs uproariously at Achmed and another kid who are fooling around. I repeat, calmly and quietly, about eight times, that he took another person's property, lied about it, and is not being respectful to me.
He returns, when I can get his attention, that he didn't kill anyone, it's not a big deal, the elastic was his, he found it on the floor, OK, OK, if it makes me happy, he took it, am I happy now? The reason he's not talking is because I jump down his throat about everything, I'm always being mean to him.
Around round six he says "Oh, oh, are you calling me a thief now?"
I say "Kiddo X, that is the word we use for someone who takes another person's things without permission."
OK, rant over. What a stupid mess, over a rubber band! I've asked our VP to meet with me and this kid, but he's not going to bother unless I nag him to death, and maybe not then. I feel kind of tapped out with this kid--he's really going to sink like a rock in high school, and all his teachers here are worried to death, but apparently the administration isn't going to care until he's guest starring on COPS.
He will be the guy with the bag of cocaine that was not his, he was holding it for a friend, and he did not know what was in it, and actually it was not his friend's, he just found it on the street, and was going to bring it to the police anyway, and anyway, he didn't kill anyone, so what's the big deal, and the police have to give him his car keys back, those are his keys, and they can't take them.
Maria will probably be the cadet riding along for the arrest. She wants to go into the Navy after high school.