High school kids are so mysterious. Intriguing in a way.
They talk about the most bizarre things. Treat each other in the strangest ways. Esteem (and exalt, really) peculiar stuff. They'll strike up the strangest conversations with me--about anything, really. Especially about Africa--they ask great questions.
I'm kind of a people watcher, so you can imagine how much fun this whole thing is for me. I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what exactly is going through these kids' heads--why they say the things they say, why they feel so compelled to act the way they do. When students are particularly naughty or show such little respect for their fellow students or me as human beings, I spend a lot of time ruminating on what anger, missing thing, insecurity or uncertainty that's all rooted in.
And a lot of time wishing they knew Christ.
("Wishing" is a deliberate word choice. I'm still developing my discipline of turning that wishing into active, fervent prayer.)
But some of it is fun. I get to be a fly on the wall, especially in my old high school. I get to hear all about how it's pasta day, a reason for excitement at LP that--it seems--is older than the students are. (Pasta was "exciting" back in 1997, too.) I get/have to hear about so-and-so and so-and-so. I hear echos of my own classmates, as these current students complain about the same teachers we did.
And, interestingly and recently, I've got to hear from the girls about how attractive the LP faculty is. Oh yes. A group of girls walked into "my" Spanish class last week gushing about how hot Mr. B is.
I found it super difficult to keep a straight face and not gawk or burst out into laughter. The poor things didn't have a clue that their precious, hot Mr. B is my Eric. Haha. Oh wow. I did manage, however--in the conversation they started with me, in which they were urging me to check out for myself the famously attractive teachers of the math hallway--to ask if perhaps the likes of Mr. B and their other favorite faculty eye candy wasn't a touch too old for them. Doesn't matter, apparently. They're just that hot. Wow. (Said opinions, of course, further extinguish any concerns I might have had about ol' Mr. B being too old for me...)
So, wow, that's definitely my new favorite subbing story. And one I try to tell as much as possible in Eric's presence. Obviously.
:)
And a lot of time wishing they knew Christ.
("Wishing" is a deliberate word choice. I'm still developing my discipline of turning that wishing into active, fervent prayer.)
But some of it is fun. I get to be a fly on the wall, especially in my old high school. I get to hear all about how it's pasta day, a reason for excitement at LP that--it seems--is older than the students are. (Pasta was "exciting" back in 1997, too.) I get/have to hear about so-and-so and so-and-so. I hear echos of my own classmates, as these current students complain about the same teachers we did.
And, interestingly and recently, I've got to hear from the girls about how attractive the LP faculty is. Oh yes. A group of girls walked into "my" Spanish class last week gushing about how hot Mr. B is.
I found it super difficult to keep a straight face and not gawk or burst out into laughter. The poor things didn't have a clue that their precious, hot Mr. B is my Eric. Haha. Oh wow. I did manage, however--in the conversation they started with me, in which they were urging me to check out for myself the famously attractive teachers of the math hallway--to ask if perhaps the likes of Mr. B and their other favorite faculty eye candy wasn't a touch too old for them. Doesn't matter, apparently. They're just that hot. Wow. (Said opinions, of course, further extinguish any concerns I might have had about ol' Mr. B being too old for me...)
So, wow, that's definitely my new favorite subbing story. And one I try to tell as much as possible in Eric's presence. Obviously.
:)
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