The queasiness could be from school, and the stress I’m feeling there, or, other stuff. Or, I could have gotten some virus from the Munchkins I was monitoring last night. A K-8 school is just a germ salad, after all.

On the compliment: One of my “bad kids” was waiting for the walkers to be dismissed yesterday, and I was making small talk. i asked about one of our 8th graders from last year, and if he was still going out with the same girl (also last year 8th grader) even though I knew they weren’t because I know her LJ address. (Serves you right to leave your laptop on when you leave for the day! As a result of one incident last year, I now can keep tabs on my kids via their own blogs, and they have no idea. Heh.) He said “no” and then paused before continuing on.

“Man, I wish you weren’t a teacher…. the stories I could tell!!!” and he shook his head.

Tonight, he was in detention, and I worked with him on his reading workshop journal, and going back and forth about the book he’s reading. He told me his plans for his 8th grade prank (streaking a baseball game; it was a soccer game until he realized soccer was OVER) and I told him about the great UMF TP Thievery of ’94, a college prank that left every dormitory bathroom on campus completely devoid of paper products on a (Thirsty) Thursday night.

One of my other kids was there too, and the first said “You never done a prank! You’re all good and stuff!” The other kid looked at him and said “Well, yeah, she’s good NOW, but we don’t know what she WAS like.” Oh, they have no idea.

Here’s the thing: I LOVE Middle School kids. Not in any freaky-sick Mary Kay Letourneau way, but in that they are GREAT KIDS. Today there were several kids who were exhausted from staying up for the Sox game. The cutest thing is that most of them had stayed up after their bedtime to listen to it on the radio and not get caught. These are kids that can be so wildly emotional, going through 15 emotions in one period, and they are listening to AM radio until after midnight, because it’s the SOX against the YANKEES.

I love teaching middle schoolers; more than that, I love mentoring them. My favorite moments are when I’m able to work one on one with a kid who is struggling with a concept, and having those lightbulbs go off. I just love ’em. So, when I say I’m stressed out about school, to the point of nausea (assuming it’s not a human being taking hold) it isn’t the kids. It’s all of the things that put kids under attack each day. People who don’t serve kids first, who don’t put them before all else. People who work hard at weeding out “the bad kids.” People who believe the best measure of a kid come from a black and white answer sheet.

That’s bullshit. Kids are awesome, middle schoolers are so much better than they appear. They terrify most K-8 ed students, and it’s too bad.

So, yes, the job might be making me sick. Or, the Other Thing. I was telling Angie, “You know, you get a papercut, you instantly know that something has changed physiologically with your body. Same thing for a stubbed toe or a bumped head. But generating LIFE? No real instant awareness, and any thing that DOES change might or might not be related to all of that cell division. Dammit.

I know, I know. I know I’ll know soon. I’m already getting ready for the Fat Lady though. Sigh.