I have a student who sort of looks like Dennis the Menace. Little guy, messy hair always sticking up in back, and the kind of slightly mischievous grin that says “I just did something I shouldn’t have, but damnit, I looked adorable doing it.”
He is the embodiment of an eight year old boy. He’s always wiggly, needs something to fidget with. He loves running around, and hates sitting still. He has a sense of humor focused on bathroom humor and cheesy puns. He enjoys armpit fart sounds.
I love him.
At the end of the day today, I was typing some notes to myself while the last kids were waiting for their buses to be called. He came over and leaned his elbows on my desk, resting his chin on his hands. He grinned beatifically at me and said “Hi.”
“Hi Bud. What’s up?”
“Noooothinnn. Just…. Just…” “Chillin?” I offered. He giggled. “Yup. Chillin.”
Now, at this point this was still a friendly, just saying hi interaction. Eventually alarm bells went off, though. He hung out for a few minutes, but that wasn’t what triggered my teacher senses. It was the smile. As the minutes went by, it got bigger and bigger, showing more teeth and an increasingly maniacal level of glee. He also was wiggling his backside (which was stuck out behind him as he leaned forward table like against my desk) with increasing energy.
Finally I stopped typing. “What?” “What what?” he responded. “What are you doing?” He grinned wider, wiggled faster. “Noooothhinnnnn…” I stared at him. “I don’t believe you.”
At this point he sat up, crossed his arms, and frowned. “I just want to hang out and watch you. I’m chillin, you know!” I felt bad. “Sorry, dude. You just had a smile on, like you did something.” For a brief second, the evil villain smile reappeared, but then he looked somber and full of wounded dignity again. “Nope.” He turned on his heel and went to play with the other kids.
Five minutes later, the buses were called. Before he left, he came around behind my desk and leaned on me. “Remember when I was at you desk? Before?” “Yup”, I told him, enjoying the one armed hug he was giving me.
At this point he leaned in, his head against mine and whispered “I was farting. A lot.” Then he darted off to the door, cackling.