My loves

Today my kiddos played a huge softball tournament with the entire seventh grade. I was scared out of my mind, seeing as field day devolved into a mess of screaming and crying. I prayed. And prayed.

Then, I made a list of positive expectations for my kiddos. We went over them very carefully this morning. And then, bring on softball.

They went onto the field, and they did not yell, mock, argue, or fight with each other. They clapped for each other, cheered each other on. They clapped when a very shy, unathletic kiddo (but so sweet and cute) went up to bat. He struck out, but they still clapped. They didn’t even yell when people got out. And no one got sent to the principal.

But here’s the kicker. Our last game, we knew that we had to win to take the championship. SO I gave “Coach I” free reign of the lineup. I walk up to them before the game, and my sassy, competitive bitch says, “Ms. L, Teeth’s homeroom will not let him play. They say he is bad so he cannot hit the ball anymore. We want him to PLAY ON OUR TEAM.”

I said, “whatever you think is right.” I think: What? Who are you? I'm too proud of you to say anything else. Right now, I am glad I'm wearing sunglasses because I have tears in my eyes.

SO THEY PUT HIM IN THE BATTING ORDER.

Then, Mr. I bring illegal substances to school (and piss off Ms. L on an hourly basis) walked over to Teeth, GAVE HIM HIS ORANGE SHIRT TO WEAR, and said, “here, so you match our team.”

And Teeth was our first at bat. My entire class stood on the sideline and cheered and clapped for Teeth. He got out at first, but got 30 high fives from my homeroom as he came off the field.

My Super Colleague and I were glad we had sunglasses on because we were both in tears. I had to turn away from them because the tears were streaming down my face.

My little hooligans finally show me that they are going to become good humans. And I am proud.