Raising teenagers

I normally like teenagers. I enjoyed my own teenage years, apart from the acne and boy drama and homework... Who am I kidding? Without those things it wouldn't be called adolescence!

Today, I'm not such a fan of teenagers.

French club is my baby. I am its author and sustainer. No me, no club. Simple. On paper, I have three female leaders. I couldn't tell you what they lead. Like I said, I am the French club. Every month, I've put on a pretty good show, and overall, I've been pleased with the attendance. On several occasions, I hear things like "We never did anything for French club last year! Like maybe one thing, but that's it! Geez, French club this year has so many events!" I pat myself on the back, because they don't.

The yearbook student staff took club photos today. For the occasion (and to be cooler than the Spanish club), I bought 3 baguettes and a big jar of Nutella (for props and a treat afterwards), and I assembled as many French flags and berets as possible. The Kodak moment was scheduled for 10am sharp.

I bump into one of my juniors and give him all of the props (except the Nutella), explaining that I'll be there in a minute.

Here's the thing, the language department also scheduled a Kodak moment at 10am. Sooooo I might have forgotten, but I hussled my coworkers into a room and it was done in a jiffy. I run downstairs, only to find the group dispersed and only a handful of students stuffing their faces with bread. One kid yells angrily: "Where's the Nutella?"

Suddenly, they notice me. I'm standing there, shocked. "You already took the picture?? It's 10:01 !!!!!" They look at me and I am pleased to see a sliver of shame in their eyes as they realize that they left me (and some others) out of the picture.

Someone asks again where the Nutella was, and I am ready to yell. Trying not to whine, I explain that we were supposed to take the picture as a group, not "first come, first appear in the picture, and the rest are suckers". I tell them the Nutella and hot cocoa is in my room upstairs, because that was the plan. They look at me as if to ask, "What? You didn't bring it with you?" and I stare right back in disbelief thinking, "What are you, wild pigs? Where are your manners?" I try not to stomp up the stairs, wondering the whole time how they can even rip apart the baguettes and devour the plain white bread when they know that I promised them Nutella? Don't they eat?

Back upstairs in my classroom, they gobble up the rest of the remaining baguette and finish half of the big jar of Nutella. I'm still out of the group, out of the circle and conversation, fuming at my desk, still mad at their rudeness.

I had a lot of thoughts in my head, a lot of words I could've said and was preparing to say, but I knew it was best to cool down before I addressed their selfish and entitled attitude.