Fabio Boy is one of those kids who should be a straight A student but is spending the bulk of his time being a totally cool awesome skater squirt. He drives us all nuts. He needs attention so bad I'm surprised he doesn't have a giant arrow pointing at him with a sign that says, "Hey, look at me!" He will raise his hand 27 times in a class just to stop and ask a completely irrelevant question and then pout when you tell him that no, you aren't going to call on him for a while. He's sneaky, devious, and is my number one candidate for a random drug test. He thinks he's incredibly adorable and he can charm his way out of anything.
He also has the most annoying hair on the planet. His hair is his glory. It's long, skater style, and his bangs hang down to his chin. He plays with it constantly. If he's not running his fingers through it, he's swinging his head all over the place, flopping his hair every which way. I can't tell if he's auditioning for a shampoo ad or if he's having a seizure. I can look out at my class and the kids could be sitting still except for Fabio Boy who's swinging his hair up and down and back and forth. Distracting doesn't begin to explain it.
But Fabio Boy crossed the line this week and told Sweet Smart Girl that the breathmint he gave her during my class was really crack cocaine. Sweet Smart Girl starts to have a full blown panic attack during class, insists, in tears that she needs to see me in the hallway RIGHT NOW, which means I'm leaving 26 seventh grade hormonal psychos (full moon, too), in the room for a few seconds while I step out to see what the drama is. Mr. Social Studies steps out and he agrees to write a pass to the nurse for Sweet Smart Girl (she has his class next) and I then proceed to write Fabio Boy a referral for this stupid, and cruel, stunt. I step back into my class from our hallway conference to find over half the kids out of their seats, goofing off, and chaos reigning.
So Fabio Boy gets his referral, and gets three days suspension plus 25 discipline points. And we all figure that Mom, who usually sobs and cries and wails that "I don't know what to do!!!" will come in and sob and cry and wail.
We are wrong.
Dad is back.
Dad is back from Iraq.
Miss Reading, who handled the referral (when we get backed up they'll pull a teacher to do admin), has a meeting with Dad and Fabio Boy and Dad is EXTREMELY DISPLEASED with Fabio Boy. Dad has just come back from a long stint in Iraq, where people are shooting and him and he's shooting at them, and the LAST THING he wants to deal with is his twerpy little son who's running around telling kids he's giving them crack cocaine. From what we can tell, based on Dad's conversation, Dad isn't regular army. He's one of the guys with scary badges. The kind that float in and float out and never quite tell you what, exactly, they're up to. In other words, not someone I'd want mad at me.
We have been informed that on Friday, when Fabio Boy returns, there WILL BE a change in attitude.
And there will be no more hair.
And Dad was serious. Fabio Boy wasn't even in school today, due to his suspension, and that was all the kids could talk about. And not even just my kids, but Mrs. Eagle's kids too. Fabio's haircut was The topic of conversation.
I can't wait to see Fabio Boy on Friday. I'm betting Dad took him out to post for his haircut and he'll be wearing it high and tight.