Cub Love

You may not be aware of this, but I am the best dancer in my high school.  Just go ahead and click on this here link if you need proof.   Dem Dancing Teacher Ladies

I teach ninth and tenth grade Intensive Reading and can go from old white lady to skreet gangsta in a hot second.  And I love my precious Tiger Cubs.  Fifteen years I have loved them at that school.  So as soon as I found out that I had breast cancer on Monday April 4, 2016, I knew I had to tell them that I would be out of class numerous days that week.  I had to tell them because this was the week before the state FSA test.  The week we had been working towards all year. There was a better chance of me hopping on the Great Space Coaster with Gary Gnu and heading to Timbuktu than me missing out on class this week.  Because, well, VAM. (Inside joke for you Florida teachers.) Basically, they needed to pass this test in order to graduate.  No pressure on this educator, eh?

Some background on where I work.  We are a Title One school, I don't know the exact numbers, but about 95% of my students are minority populations.  And 15 years ago this was a real culture shock to this Midwestern teacher lady straight outta the cornfield.  Obviously I have acclimated.  Because I know what "turnt, on fleek, tappin' my junk, and G.junk" mean.  And you don't.  But I digress.  I had to tell my freshman and sophomore students that I had breast cancer.  And there is nothing weirder than alluding to your hooters with hormonal teenagers.

The first thing I told them was to put down their phones.  That in itself is a harder challenge than conquering cancer.  I told them what was up.  Some were confused--the ones that didn't put their phones down--they thought that someone I knew had cancer.  The fully focused ones said "No!  She does!  G. Junk you stupid!" And then came the questions and comments.  I assured them that everything was going to be just fine, and the radiologist had told me I was going to be just fine, and that I wasn't going to die.  And then "S" said, "Yea, but, you know they tell everyone that.  You know, so you don't feel bad."  Cue the exasperated yelling from the female students.  I said, "S" honey, let's talk about you NOT going into the field of counseling after you graduate ok, sugar plum!"  But I think it is safe to say that we don't have to worry about S going into counseling as 2 minutes prior he was discussing having enough bail money to get out of jail if needed.  Bless his heart.

Later that day a few of my former students came to visit me during my planning period.  And by came to visit I mean they were skipping class and had just gotten kicked out of Ms. Tia Borstelman's room by Ms. B herself.  They were all ginormous football players and it was sweet that they came to give me a hug and wish me well, as they had heard the bad news.  But after a couple minutes I had to kick them out too, because well, they were totes skipping, and I had had them as students, so I knew what their grade cards looked like.  And they needed to be eligible to play.  As I was kicking them out of room 277 "Q" told me that he had to write a message on my board.  Adorable I thought, as I truly thought he was going to write something precious like "We Love you Ms Klausing!" or something like that.  Nope.  He wrote "Follow me @Qname@lick_em_low.  What the..!  Lick em low?!  Lick who low?! I hope not him!  This was the kid that would fart and gas out the entire class last year.  Every teacher has one of this kind.  The one that has to spend a quarter of the class standing out in the hallway because his "stomach is bubbling."