You’re Sorry?
You’re what?
Don’t be sorry
Be quiet
If you were sorry, you’d stop
You’d shut the hell up
You’d listen and work
But you continue
Making noise and being rude
In my basement
I have boxes and buckets and baskets and barrels of sorry
Between the work bench and the bench press
Under the stairs and piled in the back closet
I painted my house with sorry
I pack fragile packages to mail with sorry
I’m out of room
I can’t get rid of the shit
Stick that sorry up your ass
I actually have rented a POD, in which I had to put the overflow of sorry. I need to rent out a second one for my feelings of disgust soon. What to do when a boy play with himself during class. And by plays with himself…I mean PLAYS WITH HIMSELF!
Spring must be in the air — one of my 7th graders asked me if I gave blow jobs (not to him — just in general). Just shoot me now. Please.
My junior high students are such creepers! And for the sorry issue, I tell them that they are only really sorry if they make sure it doesn’t happen again. If they can do that, they have my forgiveness; otherwise my forgiveness is only as good as their sorry.