Teacher! Teacher!
We had Clare's birthday at a French restaurant, where dad got wasted off of Beafeater martinis and tried speaking French to the waiters. At the end of the meal my brother kept pointing out to the staff that it was Clare's birthday, which in laymen's terms means "give us something for free".
We got a GIANT tub of Sangria. It was huge. It was unfinishable. It was like the waiter was saying "careful what you ask for, p.s. your French accent BLOWS".
My dad had to pay.
"Stop taking pictures of me paying the bill. Put that goddamn camera away."
I took a picture of the check with my camera so that I could focus in and see how much it cost. I'm really mature.
ooooo snap dad. I bet you had a good cry in the bathroom after that one.
Anyway, talking of maturity, I really love my afterschool teaching job. I feel like I slip into this unattended black hole where I become just like them. The other day this kid Raphael, who is kind of a social reject loaner, decided to make a friend out of a dried lima bean. He played with Professor Bean for hours. Eventually I made a Mrs. Bean for him and he was eternally grateful. I said, "MRS. Bean already? Don't you think they kind of rushed into the relationship? I mean you had them on Lego Mountain for like, 5 minutes, and already there are nuptuals involved??" He just stared at me and I said "Teacher is afraid of commitment."
The other day I had fourth graders. We were playing Uno for like, 2 of the longest hours of my life, when they got bored and I suggested Charades.
"Ok everyone, write down something for charades on a piece of paper, put it in the hat and then we can take turns acting it out."
BIG MISTAKE:
I was laughing so hard, tears were rolling down my face.
copyright Jane Callahan 2006