The Valentine’s Dance was held Friday night and I was one of the many chaperones called to make sure the kiddies had a good time without getting in to any trouble.
Some of the sights:
One of my students so hopped up on a continuous feed of sugar that if given a lampshade, he would have passed for the stereotypical drunk in an old 50’s “B” movie.
A small group of boys, with sweatshirt hoods raised, sitting at the top of the bleachers with their cell phones out texting each other.
The cheerleaders, always clammoring to be the center of attention, jumping in front of the kids that were dancing trying to learn their moves. When they weren’t able to divert everyone’s attention from the good dancers, they formed Conga lines and snaked through the gym.
As the night wore on, there was more “bumping & grinding” and we found ourselves “mingling” more with the kids because we knew … absolutely KNEW that about half (or more) of the kids knew exactly what they were doing and the rest of the kids were innocently/naiively/stupidly mimicking them because it looked “cool.”
The music was loud and the lyrics at times were objectionable. I turned to my colleagues and asked if they could figure out what the lyrics were that ALL the kids were screaming along to the song with at the top of their lungs.
We all just smiled benignly and made sure no one got hurt.