The Young (me) and the Restless (high school boys)

Today I missed breakfast and was forced to scrounge in the vending machine for the most important meal of the day. I know, I know; Erik has already reminded me of the importance of getting enough folic acid and other nutrients. If they'd only fortify quality breakfast items like pop tarts and animal crackers, I'd be set. While searching for pop tarts in the vending area, I asked a high schooler if the school even had any. He pulls his earphones out, brushes long shaggy hair out of his eyes, and says he doesn't know. He then offers me the extra Pepsi the vending machine popped out, and follows me down the hallway, chatting the whole way. I quickly assess: I'm wearing khakis, a polo, ponytail and no badge. Dang. He thinks I'm a student and he's hitting on me. Darn high schoolers never look for the ring like college guys do. I make my escape, and ask my supporting teacher if I look like a student. He doesn't even have to think about it. On goes my sister missionary name tag as I try to assert myself as an adult. Later a student comes in, sees me sitting on the couch, and asks my teacher why he has so many TA's. She never gets to sit on the couch anymore (what a rough life...). As I glare at her, she looks a little closer and sees the badge. "Oh," she says, "are you a student teacher?" Can't wait until I can assign her a grade. Oh well. Homecoming is coming up; maybe I'll finally get asked to go.