Just One of the Guys

When I cared for little kids, especially in pre-school settings, the highest complement to be paid by a child under two was to have them call me Mama (or Mommy).  Typically, that meant that they felt safe and well-cared for; so comfortable that they forgot I wasn't their Mama.

In a new teaching accomplishment, I seem to have reached the teenaged version of that status with my all-male U.S. History class.  On Monday, after the bell rang and as class began, I looked up from the papers on my desk to see one young man in the back row pulling up his shirt to apply deodorant.  When I raised my eyebrow, his response was revealing, "Its an after-lunch thing, Ms. M, I figured you'd know."

He wasn't being disrespectful, he was just stating the facts.  Upper Schoolers have gym in the middle of the day and afterward a little deodorant doesn't come amiss.  Student A figured that I would understand and that I wouldn't mind.

I do and I didn't.