So...My Former Student Says He "Likes" Likes Me...

Which, of course, is complete horse pucky. Mr. Motorcycle doesn't like me, and he certainly doesn't "like" like me. He wants to bang the teacher. Simple as that. Here's how it began - Facebook. Which some days I love. And which some days I hate. And which I often love and hate on the same day.


It was this past spring - after Softy McNoodle, but before D.A. It was around the same time as BB, at least I think it was. They all start to run together after a while. Anyway, I was on Facebook checking out my friend requests. I spotted a former student among the names - not Motorcycle, but another kid from that same class. Let's call him BrownNose Billy (BNB). BNB was a sweetheart of a kid. He made straight A's, said "yes, ma'am", offered to carry things to my car after school, sat in the front row, and had color-coded notes in a binder divided by subject. He carried one of those tiny packages of kleenexes at all times and sharpened his pencil a lot. This was my first year teaching eighth grade. I was 22 and newly married. BNB was a late bloomer. He didn't seem interested in girls. He wasn't one of those pervy eighth graders who stared at my boobs while I was trying to teach. He was certainly attached to me, but I honestly believe he wanted to be my little brother or my friend. I do not believe he was picturing me naked. Or, as peeps around Stupidly Small Town say, "nekkid."


Anyway, BNB friended me. And while I refuse to be Facebook friends with any current or recent students, I reasoned that, at age 25 or 26, I could safely befriend him. I clicked "add." In a matter of minutes, another friend request popped up - Motorcycle. And, while I don't remember all my students, I certainly remember him. Like BNB, Motorcycle was memorable. He was the anti-BNB. He was smart, but lazy. He was always late. He never had his homework. He sat in the back and flirted with cute girls. He was a cut-up, a smart ass, a pain. And yet...everyone loved him. From the secretary to the principal, he could charm them all. I once watched him walk in the front doors of the school over an hour late. He walked right up to the secretary and said, "It's been one of those days...you understand." Then he winked at her, complimented her haircut, and whistled on his way to class. To my knowledge he never arrived on time, yet he was never on the absentee list. By the time he arrived to my class for third hour every day, I'd already heard ten stories about him.

One day I walked past a group of boys that included Motorcycle and BNB. As soon as I passed them, they burst into laughter. I stopped, turned around, and gave them, "the eye." BNB, eager to please, quickly volunteered: "The guys just asked Motorcycle why he was never late to your class. He said, "Why would I be late? Look at her. She's hot." I shot Motorcycle a look. I expected him to be embarrassed. He was not. At all. He took a few steps toward me and said, "Well, it's the truth. I think you're hot. Why lie? You're the most beautiful woman I know...in real life." Then...he grinned, winked, took a blatant glance at my boobs, and walked away whistling.

On the field trip to watch a play, he finagled his way into sitting beside me. During art class he drew a picture of me with my new haircut (I cut bangs. Big mistake). At the Spring Dance, he walked up and asked me to dance, and I don't think he was joking. I think he actually expected me to accept (no, I didn't accept, you fools!) For Christmas that year he bought me a card that said I was a great teacher, and that since being in my class he actually felt guilty when he forgot his homework or failed a test. He said I made him care.

This school was small - smaller than SSTHS. It was k-12, and they graduated around 40 students. When I told the kids during the last week of school that I wouldn't be returning the next year (my husband DB was taking a job far, far away), the students were upset. They were sad. A few of them were mad and didn't speak to me for a few days. BNB and Motorcycle knocked on my classroom door later that week during lunch time. I had no idea how they got into the building; students were supposed to be in the cafeteria or the playground, but there they were. I answered it. BNB was grinning broadly. He was holding a pizza from my very favorite pizza place. Motorcycle wasn't grinning, but he was holding a Diet Dr. Pepper for me and two Cokes for them.

BNB: "It was Motorcycle's idea. I called my mom, and she picked everything up. She's right down the hall with Mrs. G; they're coming , too. And we got permission to have lunch with you."

Me: "How did that happen?"

Motorcycle: "It's not that difficult."

BNB: "Nothing is difficult for him."

On the last day, I was sad. The kids were sad. My close friend, Mrs. G., who also taught there was sad. The kids hugged me (that is the only day of the year that I permit the students to hug me. I still adhere to this rule; I announce it on the first day of class). BNB and Motorcycle were the last to leave that day. They both cried, though Motorcycle blamed it on allergies. Then these young boys both had the oddest parting words for me.

BNB: "Mrs. A, you're the best teacher we've ever had. We love you, and we'll miss you. But there's something I've wanted to say all year, but I was scared I'd get detention. Now that you can't write me up...I don't like that husband of yours. There's something weird about him, and you're too good for him. I've wanted to tell you that all year. I know I'm only 14, but...I just thought someone should tell you. Anyway, I'll miss you. I'm gonna find you one day when I'm successful, and we'll have another lunch, but not pizza...a real grown-up lunch. And I'll buy it, not my mom."

Motorcycle: "You're the best, Mrs. A. I mean that. To make me care about school...well, you must be the best. And you really are the most beautful woman I know...in real life."

Next up: The Facebook Reconnection