Some of these new seventh graders are starting to show their true colors lately, and truth be told, some of them are pretty amusing kids.
For example, the second or third day of school the kids at the table in front of my teacher station were having a conversation about their favorite foods before the bell rang. One of the girls, a thin, pretty little thing mentioned that her absolute favorite food in the world was pork chops. Now, I've heard kids rhapsodize about pizza, and chocolate, and ice cream, and candy, but never pork chops. And she doesn't just love pork chops...she LOVES pork chops. Absolutely adores them. Would probably be happy if she ate them for every single meal, every single day.
Now, I wouldn't have thought much of it, but a few days later the topic of pork chops comes up again and she begins telling the kids at the table about the great dinner she had the other night with her momma's pork chops. They are all seriously listening to her, which is funny in and of itself.
Okay, this is getting amusing now. And it wouldn't be nearly so funny but she's not a big kid. She doesn't look like she could manage one pork chop, let alone two, at a meal, but apparently she polishes them off quite handily.
Yesterday, she asked me how my weekend was after she walked into class. (This kid, by the way, has apparently adopted me and considers me her school momma, and is checking in every morning to make sure I'm here and it's not a sub. I'm not sure why this is, but every morning I get a bearhug from her - she's strong for such a tiny kid - and off she goes.)
"I had a pretty good weekend," I tell her.
"Did you have pork chops?" she asks. Really. I thought I was going to crack up laughing right then and there.
"No, but I think I'll have to have some this week," I told her.
So last night, I tell Mr. Bluebird this story about my Pork Chop Girl and he thought it was great. However, he did have something to add. "You need to ask her how her momma cooks her pork chops. If they are that awesome, I want the recipe."
So I did. I pulled her aside this afternoon, and asked her how her momma made her pork chops.
"Well, I honestly don't know," she said. "Momma gets mad at me for wanting to eat them out of the pan and not waiting to sit at the table so I stay in my room until supper is ready."
Okay, by this point, I'm picturing this girl standing by the stove with a fork in hand reading to spear those chops from the pan into her mouth. In one bite.
"Well, Mr. Bluebird would really like to know how your momma cooks them, so can you bring me her recipe tomorrow?" I asked.
"Okay," she said, "I'll ask her. But you know, you're making me hungry."
We'd finished lunch only and hour earlier.
So, we'll see if she shows up with a recipe tomorrow. Truth be told, I'm intrigued. Maybe we'll do pork chops this weekend.