Me: You aren’t reducing these fractions; do this page over.
Girl: OMG! Fine. Wait, do you even know what OMG means?
Me: OF COURSE I do. My generation invented OMG.
Other Girl: Yeah, she’s not THAT old, God. Everyone knows that OMG means Oh My God!!
Yet Another Girl: Yeah, both ways of TAKING THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN!
Other Girls: (awkward silence)
Me: Yeah, so reduce these fractions.
And then today:
Me: Yeah, you will have to shuffle these flashcards yourself, I cut my thumb this weekend and now I can’t do a surprising amount of things. Like texting. It’s mad annoying.
Girl: You TEXT?!?!
Me: OF COURSE! Why is that so surprising?
Girl: It’s just… my parents don’t know how to text.
Me: I’m not the same age as your parents. I’m closer to YOU than to your parents.
Girl: Um, whatever, you can DRIVE.
Me: OMG.
And, to twist the knife:
Boy: Why is there a drawing of a birthday cake on that whiteboard?
Me: I don’t know, it was just there.
Boy: Is today your birthday?!? Are you thirty?!?
Me: WHAT? No! I’m only twenty-two!
Boy: Oh. Well, that’s only eight away from thirty.
Me: (sigh) Good mental subtraction.
If you’re interested, I’m up to about 26,000 words on my novel, about half of which is from the perspective of Middle School Patricia. Mr. Snape Darcy, her dream man, makes regular appearances. It’s pretty epic.
Mr. Snape Darcy is an anagram for “randy campers”. Your not fooling anyone. OMG — must stop doing Jumble and Scrabble puzzles in the morning paper!
“You’re” not “your”. Oops.