Another lousy day. I could title this one “Reinfestation”. The students at our school do not always follow directions, even when it comes to keeping human skin parasites of their domes. Gross. Despite our best efforts, we have not managed to win the war on lice. It’s too much work. It’s an especially late Wednesday, because of the washing and combing and picking we had to do. Simian affection, really. I do think having lots of extra work around goes a long way in helping us differentiate between the kids who will step up and lend a hand and do things right, and the kids who do not give a cuss yet, which is helpful.
Anyhow, now that you know all about my lice problem, please forgive me for going on about it and continue reading. Please.
Seriously. Earned it today.
So, I had several unpleasant exchanges with an unpleasant student tonight, which is a bummer because I actually really enjoy his sense of humor and quick wit. He’s also had huge traumas and horrific depression, so for a long time I’ve had lots of patience, but it’s worn thin. I’m going to write a little poem about an imaginary exchange, trying to keep the cursewords to a minimum, and then go to bed.
The Three Types of Question
Shortly after you cuss me out you will come to me and say, “Can I ask you a question?”, this is how I might reply:
Or, I might tell you that there are only three types of questions you ever ask me, and if you pick the right one, I will allow you to ask, but if you choose poorly, you will work to win back my favor until you come, deploring, having rehearsed the lines over, and over in your head, performing them as though warmed by stage lights, and I will know that it is a show dreamt up to save your own tuches, but your efforts will give me the illusion of growth.
I am the grail knight and you are indiana jones in this scenario. You are welcome.
Type One: the type of question where you push a boundary by using foul language in the service of humor to rebel against and impress me in hopes of gaining my affection, the type that begins with, “Excuse my language, but” The kind you tell again to your friends after, like, “Guess what I asked her?”.
Type Two: the type of question that is intentionally hurtful but with slight wit to provide you with an escape hatch if my reaction isn’t what you desired, wherein you undercut this home that I love and and tip your barbs with black humor.
Type Three: The agendaless questions, ones driven by crazy curiosity about the things you love, books and films and old lps that we both love, or about love and the facts of it, or about the unity of all things or life’s dry-husk, or the days when the dragon wins.
Choose wisely, and forever.
Whatever Wednesday. G’night…