Teachers at the Prom

I teach teenagers, and because they cause me gray hair, it's only fair that I get to mess with their minds whenever I can. Our school's prom is tonight. My assistant principal, who is a dear man and a good friend, asked if I was coming to the prom and when I made a face that said "probably not", said, "Oh, I was hoping to dance with you." Of course this was all said to make the students gathered around my desk feel awkward, because let's face it, teenagers do not like to see their teachers dance, least of all with each other. On top of that, they know I'm single. If there's one thing teenagers dislike more than seeing their teachers dance is thinking of them as people who actually date. I am not dating my assistant principal, just to be clear. I turned to one boy and said, "If I came to the prom tonight, "J," would you dance with me?"
"Uh, Miss, I have a girlfriend." The 'laughter-in-check' meter within me started to rise.
  "Not that kind of dancing, "J."
Laughter broke out around the desk and in the room.
    "You wouldn't dance one dance with your teacher?"
       "She might not let me."
          "Does she let you dance with your mother?"
             "Well, yeah,"
                "So what's the difference, "J?" Are you embarrassed to dance with your teacher?"  Poor boy. I decided to release him from the suspended animation. I turned to another boy on the other side of the desk. "R", would you dance with me if I came to the prom?"
   "Yes, Ms. B., I'd dance with you."

Never a dull day. Today, that same student somehow managed to lock the computer cart's padlock around his backpack strap. Did I mention I teach senior English? These are 18 year-olds. He looks at me with hopeful eyes. "You know the combination, right, Miss?" Because the lock needed some resistance in order to open- it works fine on a heavy cart but not on a backpack-I had no clue how to get it off his backpack. We tried for three or four minutes. In one swift motion, he grabbed the scissors off my desk and cut his backpack strap, setting the lock free to clank on my desk.  "Cool, hahaha," "J" said, grabbed my stapler and proceeded to connect his straps with a couple dozen staples.

I crazy mad love teenagers. I surely do.