When Squirrels Lose Their Minds...and Their Nuts

A few years ago when our previous social studies teacher decided that middle schoolers had

stepped

on

her

very

last

nerve

and went to teach at the high school level, our principal asked those of us on the team what we would like in a social studies teacher. We all chorused, "a man" because we all knew that the boys in our school really need good strong male role models. And, there are times where just having a guy around comes in handy.

Case in point.

This morning during homeroom, when the kids are slowly trickling in from the buses and parent drop-off, Mr. Social Studies and I are just outside our rooms (our doors are practically next to each other) discussing something, most likely one of the girls in his homeroom who I need to talk to nearly every day about revealing clothing, when we see Mrs. Language come around the corner, leading about eight of our boys with her. She looked, for all the world, like one very annoyed Momma Duck with her little flock trailing behind in a desperate bid to keep up with her.

In fact, one of her flock, Tall Gangly Boy, was actually walking somewhat like a duck, hunched over in a half-crouch, and walking somewhat gingerly. Upon a second look it became apparent that he was also holding his private area.

"Stay here!" Mrs. Language barks, and her ducklings huddle in a mob near the lockers, their eyes downcast, toes kicking at the tiles. Tall Gangly Boy leans against the lockers, his face a rather odd shade of green.

She strides up to Mr. Social Studies. "You need to talk to them," she hisses, inclining her head towards her flock, "about why it's a damn stupid idea to do nut checking in the classroom."

Mr. Social Studies sighs, walks over to them and begins his lecture, hands on hips. It is his most imposing stance.

Nut checking, apparently, is the latest rage among our middle schoolers and consists of silly boys hitting each other - and hard - in the privates. Mrs. Language apparently heard a ruckus in one corner of her room, discovered three of her boys rolling on the floor in agony, grabbed them and the offenders gathered around them, and marched them over to us.

By the time Mr. Social Studies finishes his lecture the boys are looking even gloomier, although Tall Gangly Boy is looking a lot less green. He strides back over to us, shaking his head. "Morons." he says.

"Thanks," says Mrs. Language. "I figured you owed it to us."

"How's that?" Mr. Social Studies asks.

"Well," she replies, "We take care of the girls with boobies hanging out so you can take care of the boys and their balls."