Making Children Cry

How many children have YOU made cry over the past eleven weeks? 

What’s that? 

Less than five? 

Well then SIT DOWN and SHUT UP! 

And let me tell you how it’s done.

Making children cry is a specialty of mine. 

Some may even call it…

a hobby

[laughs maniacally]

What’s that? 

Am I just walking around making random kids cry in public?

Well, that depends! 

Do we consider “school” a public place?  Yes?

Well then!  Guess so!

Let’s get to the kids, because they’re the stars of this one:

Crying Kid ONE: Now, this first kid would not stop crying.  Cried for like 3 straight minutes.  Claimed that I “twisted his arm.”  However you say that in Spanish.  I was all like “IS IT BROKEN OR ARE YOU JUST BEING A BITCH” and… well eventually, he stopped crying.

Crying Kid TWO:  So this one was totally not my fault.  I mean, sure, technically I may have swung open the door to the teacher’s lounge a bit quickly—the school day was finished, and I was eager to get the fuck outta that place.  But don’t these kids know bout the “no running in the halls” rule?  That’s on them!

Crying Kid THREE: Was this the one I sat on?  I think this is the one I sat on.  Sorry, we’re getting out of chronological order here. I don’t know if it’s a tradition in Spain whatever, but seemingly when you get new shoes, people try and rub and scuff them on purpose.  Which is a completely retarded tradition, btw.  I was wearing new shoes that day.  I was also wearing a sixth grade girl on my right leg, just hooked on there like an opossum, and a fourth grade boy on my left leg.

I fucking warned these kids, over and over, and they ignored me. 

I wasn’t gonna fuck up the girl.  And I wasn’t intending to fuck up the boy.  But I wanted to get this little bastard off of me.  Very slowly, very deliberately, I lowered myself down to a squat and I planted my one of my knees on the ground.  And by “the ground,” I mean “the boy’s chest.” 

Fortunately, this time, I had a pretty good cover story.  As I circled back around to his crumpled-up body laying flat on the playground, being tended to by three other teachers, I told him, “Te lo dije!”  (I told you this would happen!)  And guess what?  He had NO comeback for that one.  (Mostly due to the lack of oxygen in his lungs.)

Crying Kid FOUR: Or how about this one?  Supposedly I made a kid cry… from a noogie! That’s right: a NOOGIE!! 

Webster’s Dictionary defines a noogie as: the act of rubbing one’s knuckles on a person’s head so as to produce a mildly painful sensation.

Come on, kid!  You can’t cry from a noogie.  That’s what your hair’s there for—to prevent the burn!

Crying Kid FIVE:  This one I have zero remorse for, this kid was out of CONTROL and all I did was firmly (but not tightly!) clasp on to his arm so he couldn’t run off and continue drubbing the shit out of a fellow first grader.  That’s right, I was the peacemaker here, and what am I awarded with?  TEARS.  Unbelievable!

That’s the list so far!  I expect to add more kids to this list in the next… four days or so.  So keep your eyes here! 

And until next time:

Cry on, little bitches!