It is a Sunday. A ridiculously hot, beautiful Sunday in May. And I am not talking 'San Francisco' hot; I am talking so hot that you can go to the 'San Francisco beaches without a down jacket' kind of hot. And it is Sunday. Did I mention that? A blissfully hot, quiet, student-free Sunday in May. At the beach. With a book. Without students. 48 hours without students. And so I am blissfully enjoying reading a book on the beach awaiting the arrival of J-D and doggie when I receive the following text message. From a student. A senior. Whom we will call N:
Yo loser want to hit up the beach tomorrow since like, its whatchamacallit [Senior Cut] day and im guessing you're not going to school?
My Inner Voice: Hmmm. Interesting.
My Text Voice: Yo dingbat you sent this to your teacher yo. Good to know, so you gonna be in my class tomorrow for sure to practice for thurs, eh?
As my text is sending, N texts me again:
Ummm ... Hey s----! Can u just totally ignore that text cause that was supposed to go to sam not sa--- ... Yah ... My bad. Forget that
Me: Busted.
Lol Im totally going to be there to practice for thurs. I have no idea what you mean by busted ..
Me: Liar:) see you mon
I'll see YOU tomorrow :P
And then I return to sun and chapter six of my book. Because it is a Sunday. A blissfully hot, quiet, hopefully-back-to-student-free Sunday in May.
Let this be a warning to all texting teachers and their students.
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