Saturday Student Memories: The Shut Up Lady Kid

Although I don't miss teaching, I miss teens and the funny stories that they provide. For that reason, I will dedicate every Saturday to honoring such fallen heroes. Of course, Garbage Pail Kids were off limits during my happy 80's childhood, but I have a feeling that the protagonist of the following story would be a fan. Thank to my friend Jen for editing this.

One of my most memorable students was a charming child named David, a student in my Utah Studies class. As I have never run in counter-culture anarchistic circles, I don’t have the necessary vocabulary to describe his style, but I will do my best. He had several piercings in the cartilage of his ear, and the lobe was stretched, National Geographic style, by a huge plastic circle. He was adorned by worn out black and red cloth bracelets, which were designed to tastefully accent his death metal t-shirt. Even the rubber bands on his braces were as black as coal (which is what he undoubtedly received in his Christmas stocking). His face, which may have been cute in a better world under happier circumstances, reflected the insidiousness of his demented little soul. Had he hit puberty already and grown past a diminutive 4’6”, he may have been a formidable sight to behold.

As I was lovingly teaching eager seventh graders about Utah’s illustrious past, at regular intervals, David would interject, “Shut up, Lady!” followed by a machine gun torrent of giggles. After a few weeks of listening to his endearing cries, I started calling him “The Shut Up Lady Kid.” And thanks to him, I had to fill out a detention form that stated “Student refers to teacher as a ‘fartknocker.’” Although I still don’t know the exact etymology of that word, I feel confident that there are probably more respectful forms of address.

The most peculiar thing was that the more I punished him, the more he sought my company. I think that he was sharp enough to realize that he would have to have an artillery much more powerful than “fartknocker” and “shut up” to earn my animosity. One of the reasons that middle school teaching wasn’t my long term career plan is that I am incapable of instilling fear in the hearts of children. When I think that I have lost my temper uncontrollably, no one’s feelings are hurt and no one is afraid. That year I felt bad about constantly nagging and punishing a pesky seventh grader named Paco, and I gave him so many detentions that he got suspended three times. He was so consistently disruptive that I had to send him out to the hall several times a week. Nevertheless, he stayed after school in my classroom everyday and constantly visited me between classes. One day after school he told me, “Teacher, thank you for being there for me all the time, and being nice to me even when I am annoying. I will put you a nickname: ‘La unica maestra que me soporta’ (the only teacher that puts up with me).”

I seemed to have the same affect on David, because he loved to pay me visits throughout the day. While I was teaching another class, the students would suddenly gasp in horror and I would be confused until someone finally managed to utter, “Miss Wagner! The…. Shut. Up. Lady. Kid.” I always turned around to see his punctured little face staring in through the window. As soon as he caught my attention, he would open the door, yell, “Shut up lady! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” and run away. At times his exclamations were punctuated by an obscene gesture and a snarl. Because the majority of my students were Mormon gifted talented students, the David show was the closest they would ever come to a rated-R movie, and they were overjoyed. Everyone awaited his visits with breathless anticipation and they were very rarely disappointed-he was one of those kids who is always roaming the halls because they are so rowdy that no one wants to deny them bathroom passes. Unfortunately, he never felt the urge while I was at the helm.

Another time as I was teaching, I kept hearing weird sounds coming from the heater. It sounded like a hybrid of a slowly dying dog and a novice woodwind player. Although the school dated back to “the greatest generation” and had a tendency towards weird noises, this appalling symphony was abnormal. I rambled on and on, trying to focus, but the sounds were driving me to distraction. Kids were laughing, and only the ones in the very back corner seemed to know what was happening, but they refused to share that information. Then, halfway through the period, an eerily familiar voice rang through the semi-silence of working students, finally solving the mystery of the malfunctioning heater, “Found a quarter, hehehehehehehehe!” I walked to the back of the room and found the Shut Up Lady kid gently nestled behind the heater.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, overcome by my good fortune.

“That fartknocker Mr. Garcia kicked me out of Industrial Arts.”

“Why?”

“I called him, ‘@#$@#$@#$#@$#@$#@$#@$@#$#@$@#$@#$@#$@#$#@$’ before class started and he got angry and threw me out into the hall. Hate that guy.”

“Then go out into the hall. Mr. Garcia punished you, not me.”

“No please! It is scary out there! They’ll kill me! NOOOOOOOOO”

“That would be sad. Bye.”

But of course, it was not that simple. Twenty minutes later, David was still in my classroom, eating candy contentedly after being part of a victorious review game team. He left when the bell rang. His parting words: “See you next period.”