Found in 6th Grade Hallway (in 1998-waaaayyyy before texting and, well, you know…a lot of other things that a middle school child didn’t do that they now seem to excel at….use your imagination…) Oh, and it’s handwritten. In beautiful cursive. What? #thosewerethedays
Just thinking about you and me makes me think about our future. When we get older I want to have a family with you. I want to be married with you. So do you think you can handle that. If you can’t, I will win you over. Also I can’t live or do anything without you in my heart. My heart is filled up but with you it will more more filled with love. Also, I wish we could have a boy/girl with each other.
Tell me at lunch if you can handle that and if we can spend our lives together. Thanks for giving me a second chance. Even though what I did was stupid.
As I finish this blog excerpt, I’m realizing that I may have thwarted what could have been a beautiful and fulfilling relationship between two 11 year old children…whoopsie. #theycallmetheinterceptor
Dear Once Respectful Middle School Class,
It’s true. Our time together is almost complete. With these 19 days of school left this year, I’ll assume you’ll continue to demand immediate assistance, the truth regarding why my first name is “a boy’s name’ (trust me, I’m a girl), a new seating chart that will suit you and your social circle, (geez, if I haven’t already done this people, I’m more than likely NOT going to) almost hourly requests for a functional pencil sharpener, (ain’t nobody got time for that) and, finally, permission to visit that flashy nightclub known as The Bathroom (WHATEVER happens in those tiled palaces, it surely must require a $5 cover). For working so incredibly and mindfully this last semester, I’d like to give a shout out to all my middle school friends and be careful…I just may follow ya’ll to high school- and, please, remember, is this the best it’s gonna get for you? Dang right.
Let’s enjoy and stay positive. Mindset, people, it’s all about our mindsets…and deodorant.
Fondly and Still Unerringly Yours,
(From the Vault) Dear 7th Grade Friends,
Teacher A has been teaching you for 62 days.
Teacher A has seen a minimum of 3 Friends per day become quite frustrated at least 2 times per day.
Teacher A has 17 Friends to teach per day.
How many times a day should Teacher A expect to identify, direct, redirect, redirect, redirect, direct, transport, and follow up with each friend by Day #71?
Answer: As many times as it takes for ALL Friends to SUCCEED with PRIDE (Duh!)
P.S. Yes, I ALSO smell that from all the way over here… Haven’t you seen the size of this beak?! #gasisallyouboo 🤢 👃
Attention Middle School Boys of Room 239:
Whoever is slinging the sopping wet, brown globs of paper towels up to the ceiling in the upstairs boys bathroom- please meet Mr. Sands in the Custodian’s office at lunch. You’ll be slinging the (by now) cement-like paper pieces off of the ceiling until it shines like the top of the Chrysler Building! (WHAAAA? You’ve never EVEN HEARD of Annie?!!!)
I imagine you’ll also miss playing Basketball Knock-Out in Gym today, as once ya’ll are done in the upstairs boy’s bathrooms, you can head on down to Ms. Rita’s art room where you can begin the tasty task of removing all of the Sparkling Grape Hubba-Bubba gum from underneath the art station desks (MMMMMM….sounds DELISH).
To the Middle School Boys AND Girls of Room 239:
Asking for 10 sentences to create a paragraph is NOT THAT DIFFICULT, people. You’ve spoken more sentences persuading me to drop the assignment just now.
Your classroom pencil sharpener is no longer available as your “office water cooler”. In addition, please arrange to have your brain wrap around the idea that I am a teacher. I hear all. I see all. I am all (Ladies and Gents, I was also once a middle-school student…).
Lastly, I suggest you find other outlets for your vertical pitching skills and masticating needs. And, for GOD’S SAKE stop snatching all of my rubber bands off of my desk…MY desk.
Fondly, Mrs. Wise
Dear Middle School Friends of Room 124,
I’m preparing you now so you have some time to compose yourself at my mention of the word UDDERS tomorrow. And a scene showing a woman from 1889 simply milking her family’s cow. Yes, milk comes from the cow. Through her Udders. Cheers!
Fondly, Ms. Wise