Sitting around in our regular Wednesday Advocacy Class, we were discussing summer jobs, the upcoming graduation, and schedules for next year.
"Do I have to take English 4 my senior year?" every single junior asked, except those in my SPED classes who knew they were going to have me as their senior English teacher.
"Miss," asked Eber, "you ever been shot at?"
All faces turned my way.
"Actually, Eber, I have been. One Friday night as Hubby and I pulled up to our house around 9 p.m. he noticed some unusual activity in the house on the corner. He drove up and flashed his brights on the house and we interrupted a robbery in progress. Three teenage boys fled the house and one ran down the street directly in front of us, so Hubby gave chase in our car. The kid turned around, pulled a pistol from his pants and fired five shots at the car. I was terrified and screamed at Hubby to turn around and take us home right away. Luckily none of the shots landed."
Kids nodded. "How about you, Eber? Ever been shot at?"
"Yeah, sure. Just last night, in fact. Probably somebody shoots at me once a week."
"WHAT!" I screeched! "EVERY WEEK?"
Eber looked a bit embarrassed, but nodded.
"How do you keep from getting shot?"
Brittany, a ninth grader, laughed. "Duck and weave, Miss. Duck and weave."
"Yeah," replied Eber. "I know how to roll to the floor of the car. You get used to it."
"My brother shot at me in our house last year, but then he's crazy," offered Amber.
"Sure, we have gunfire in the streets all the time."
Sometimes I realize it's the kids who are actually educating me and not the other way around.