I hunched down in my too-small middle school desk at the back of the room, trying to appear friendly yet mostly invisible in my silent observer role. In stomped an eighth grader in Ugg boots, her side braid artfully messy, her makeup expertly applied.
Slam! went her bookbag in her chair. "Oh my gah!" she shrieked. "Why is there wet stuff in my bag? Oh my god, it's my hair product. You guys, my hair product leaked all over my bag!" Hand flapping, procuring of paper towels, and fastidious and lengthy removal of all offending product ensued. She turned around and noticed me at the back of the room. "Who's that?" she shouted to everyone and no one in particular. "Is that a student teacher? Do we have a student teacher? Oh my god, do you remember the student teacher we had last year? What was her name? Ms...Ms. something...Ms. D! Oh my god, do you remember Ms. D? I hated her! I hated her so much! I hope this one's better than Ms. D. I think so. She looks better than Ms. D. Oh my god, Ms. D, ugh! Haha!"
Internet, I think it's going to be a long semester.