Half day today for afternoon parent-teacher conferences, yay! There was a pretty good turnout, including the parents of some of my most problematic students. It’s kind of awkward explaining to a parent that their kid deliberately farts in other kids’ faces, or goes to the water fountain and walks around the room seeing if he can squirt water on every single kid without having to get another mouthful, or pretends that I am invisible (I have a student who does this, and it is almost worse than backtalk because no matter what I say or do, he literally stares at the wall and hums until I give up). It’s also very satisfying to talk to the parents of the “good kids,” since they get so happy and excited when you praise their kid to the stars and show them all the quizzes and tests that they have aced. Ms. L had a mom cry because she was so happy. Awww…

My favorite conference was the one that started with me asking the student, “Would you like to explain to me and your mother your obsession with punching boys in their private parts?” and ended with the mother going on a ten-minute rant that began “You know I don’t like to get ghetto, but I can when I have to, and girl you are making me get ghetto on you…” and progressed to, “…You know if someone punched your brother in his area I would go to her house and have words with her and her mother, and if one of those boy’s parents comes to have words with me you know I will have to say something back, and then you know how it will go, and the police will get involved, and how can I pick you and your little brother up from school if I AM IN JAIL BECAUSE YOU CAN’T KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF?!?!” That’s so much more intense than the, “eat your broccoli or starving Malaysian orphans will die” hyperbole that I got as a kid. At least, I hope that part about jail was hyperbole.