Page 5 of Best Frenemies

“I’ve been better,” Jimmy Lucas says through a deep sigh that’s worthy of a man who just got off a twelve-hour shift working construction in one-hundred-degree temperatures.

“Oh no…” I bite my lip to fight the urge to laugh and force a sympathetic smile to my lips. “I’m sorry to hear that, Jimmy. Is there anything I can do to make today better for you?”

Before Jimmy can answer, Seth Brown is quick to chime in. “You probably just need a wine cooler, Jim. My mom says wine coolers make her feel less stressed.”

Here we go.

If there’s one student I can rely on to get a classwayoff course, it’s Seth Brown. He’s adorable and even sweet to his core, but he’s practically a professional distractor.

Throughout this school year, I’ve had to contact his mother Sammy numerous times and have had several parent-teacher meetings with her because of Seth’s penchant for disruption in the classroom.

“What’s a wine cooler?” Jimmy asks, and a rocky future of angry emails from concerned parents about alcoholic beverages being encouraged in my class as a coping mechanism for their seven- and eight-year-old kids flashes before my eyes.

Quick as a whip, I jump into the conversation. “A wine cooler is an alcoholic beverage that only adults can have and isnotapproved by any official agency as a way to deal with stress.”

The words just barely leave my lips and Melanie Morris’s hand shoots up like a rocket from the fourth row.

“Yes, Melanie?”

“What’s a alkalolic beverage, Ms. Dayton?”

“My mom says they’re delicious, and she loves—” Seth Brown starts to put in his unneeded two cents, but I quickly cut him off.

“Seth,” I state firmly and meet his eyes. “You know the class rules. If you have something to say or a question to ask, you need to raise your hand.”

“Sorry, Ms. Dayton,” he says sheepishly, his part-time Opie persona in full effect.

“Now, we have gotten way off track here,” I announce and walk toward the front of the classroom. “And it’s important that we get back on track. Today, we’re going to take a timed addition test.”

“A stinking test? On a Friday?” Seth groans from the third row, clearly forgetting about the whole raising his hand during class thing in a record amount of time.

“Yes, Seth,” I respond. “A short test to see what we’ve learned these past few weeks.”

“Yes!” Caroline, one of my most motivated and well-behaved students, cheers from her spot in the first row. “I love timed tests!”

“Of course, you do,” Seth mutters under his breath, but Caroline hears it and she’s quick to respond.

“Shut up, Seth!”

“That’s enough,” I hop in without hesitation. “Everyone, settle down. Unless you want to spend your recess with me doingmoreaddition problems, there will be no more outbursts, okay?” I look around the classroom, meeting each of my students’ eyes to ensure they know I mean business.

Luckily for my sanity, they listen.

“Thank you,” I announce and stop right in front of my desk to grab a stack of freshly printed-off papers. “Now, today’s timed addition test will be a little longer than you’re used to. You’re going to have five minutes to complete as many addition problems as—”

I stop mid-instructions when raucous laughter roars through the wall behind me, and then what sounds like a semitruck rams straight into it and shakes the floor.For the love of everything.I twist my torso to face the offending direction—through my room’s wall and to the other side where Mack Houston’s classroom sits.

Mr. Music Man.

Mr. Fun Time Bobby (without the booze).

Mr. Giant-Thorn-in-My-Side.

Basically, all my work-related problems come fromMack Houston. His classroom is always loud, always boisterous, and always on the verge of being out of control, and since he’s right next door, my students’ and my ears never miss a moment of the chaos.

I teach mathematics for first, second, and third graders at Calhoun Elementary, but with Mr. Houston’s boisterous classroom right next door, most days, I feel like I’m trying to teach advanced calculus to grad students in the middle of an amusement park.

The onslaught of noise dulls slightly, and after heaving a deep sigh, I turn back to my students to continue giving them directions. A timed addition test might not seem like such a big deal, but I always try to make sure I give my kids specific instructions before a test, as well as a healthy dose of encouragement to get them in the right state of mind.

---