Crossing the line

Hi, I’m the maudlin, tipsy, inappropriately tender person who is teaching your children.  Nice to meet you.  Embarrassingly, I dreamed last night about a senior boy who shared a bunch of his worries with me (and also, not incidentally, came out to me) a few days ago.  The dream wasn’t sexual, but it felt very intimate, as though he were my child and I was trying to soothe him.

I actually had three pretty good classes today, including my somewhat challenging senior class, who are challenging mostly because of the passivity of some of the students, including Ted.  Poor old Ted.  He is slipping through like a ghost–so passive that he’s almost boneless.  He looks like a normal person, but I’m not sure there’s anybody home.  I think it might just be possible that he’s stoned some of the time, but I don’t trust my own perceptions on this–despite my interest in my own alteration by drink, I’m notoriously poor at perceiving when other people are altered in some way.  I think tomorrow might be the day to poke a stick into his shell and see if he snaps at it.  (He’s a turtle now?  Wasn’t he just a ghost?  I haven’t even had any wine tonight, really.)

Deirdre seems to be doing okay.  She and I are getting along well, although she hasn’t had any major pieces of graded work back from me yet, so what’s not to get along?

And Betsy seems cheerful enough to be in my class, still somewhat reticent, but peeking out of her shell some, too.

I don’t see Deirdre or Betsy tomorrow, though, so the other students, besides Ted, whom I shall poke with a stick are Jennie, in my homeroom, who needs prodding to show up at writing group, and Robyn, in one of my AP classes, who is underconfident and needs to feel noticed.  Watch out, Jennie, Robyn, and Ted!

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One response to this post.

  1. […] fact turn out to be a theme of the year.  One of the things that happened is that the senior who came out to me in September, whom I’d taught in junior year, pretty much appointed me his special friend […]

    Reply

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