Yesterday I was teaching fifth grade art. I try to look hip when I go into the fifth grade. I do cover up the cleavage, but go for the conservative hip look.  It starts to become important to the kids that their mom is not the dork in the high water granny pants. I also put my hair in a ponytail, because I’ve discovered that if I don’t, the kids will paint, glue and/or cut my hair. I need to protect the merchandise.

So I’m teaching the lesson and I said “Turn your projects over and write your names on the back so I can read it. That means write it in a color I can see and write clearly and legibly. My eyes are old.” And three kids yelled out “You’re not old!” (Not one of those three were my son, thankyouverymuch.)

God, I love those kids. Cuz you know, at that age, they don’t say stuff to be nice. They call ‘em as they see ‘em. Which means, I. am. not. old. yet.