The Dance

They had this dance after school on Friday. The idea of my eighth graders at a dance was just too much for me to miss. I snuck over to take a peak.

The teacher manning the door knew exactly what I was there for.

"I haven't taught middle school in like seven years, and I just had to-"

"I think I can sneak you in," she said with a wink.

There were the blinking lights, the loud hip hop music, the lounging kids pretending to be at ease. The door monitor showed me around,

"This is where they dance, down here," she said, with the same kind of look on her face as I felt. "This is where they lounge about. Then the gym is open, too, so if they want to go play basketball..."

We were standing over a sunken area which was serving as the dance floor.

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god. They're so cute! I just couldn't miss this. They're so cute."

They were doing the raisin' the roof moves.

"Aren't they?" We stood there with a giggly, warm glow about us.

No one noticed us.

This is just their nightmare, isn't it? People standing around talking about how cute they are. Of course, everyone knows that teachers aren't actually people, so it doesn't matter in the slightest.


  1. Actually, I believe that my worst nightmare in junior high was having someone see my dad drop me off at school in the hot-pink Lincoln Continental he drove at the time.

  2. That's actually my current great dream- that your dad will drop me off at school in his hot-pink Lincoln Continental.