Crazy people

I can hear everything that goes on in my classroom. Ok, maybe not everything but pretty darn close to it because it’s a scientific fact that 7^th graders are incapable of whispering. What they “tactfully” say under their breath eventually travels its way into my ears…then again, maybe they meant for their comments to be heard. And what I’ve been hearing a lot lately is:

“Crazy.”

“She’s so weird.”

“What the…”

Truthfully, I don’t blame them. I would’ve thought the same things (keeping them to my timid teenage-self, however) and internally scoffed at my teacher when she busted out with the crazies. By crazies I mean that I unexpectedly break out into songs, I dance, and I even showed off my faux French (“Ah, vat iz dis? Do ve not know ze meaning of dis vard?”).

In my defense, I have purposely fallen off the rocker. Would it make sense if I told you that I’ve dreamt of being the weird English teacher who in her long muumuu and clacking bangles, was so in love with good literature that she didn’t care what anyone, especially her students, thought of her? What my students label as strange, I like to call passionate and fun. But I’m afraid that’s how every crazy person thinks.

But being crazy is so much fun!