...my boyfriend...

Today two young men were in my classroom after school.  We'll call them Tyrone and Jamal for the sake of obvious racial stereotyping.  Don't judge, race is part of this story.

Jamal is one of my freshmen.  He's....unique.  He's what we educators call a tapper.  You know, he's always tapping something on his desk, usually a combination of pen and wrist, to set a beat.  He's not exactly academically minded, and his behavior regularly needs correcting.  Nonetheless, we have established a good relationship.  I am able to tease him without incident, and he occasionally even throws a joke back.

Tyrone is an upperclassman who is new to the school.  I have never had him as a student, but have gotten to know him, superficially anyway, since he is often in the classroom across the hall.

This afternoon, when the two of them were hanging out in my room, Tyrone was sharing a little bit about his history and how he ended up in this town.  I was pretty impressed that he was so open and honest with me since this was our first real conversation.  He hasn't exactly had it easy.

Then, out of no where Jamal pipes up.  Miss O'Brien has a black boyfriend!  Did you know that?


Eyes wide, Tyrone:  Really?!?


Yeah, he used to be in jail.  But he's changed.  He came in here one day and was talkin' wit us about it.  He was saying:  It aint worth it! (Imagine emphatic arm gesture at worth.)

Really?  I gotta get myself in this classroom.


I have no idea why Jamal told him this.  Don't worry, Tyrone knows the truth...Well, at least that he wasn't in jail and never came to class.  Somehow Jamal seems really convinced that I do have a black boyfriend.  Whatever.