blossoms of snow

Today the role of therapist was added to my duties:

Brian (age 12): Miss Stewart, why do I sometimes feel sad for no reason?
Me: Oh. Well, you know Brian, that's life. Sometimes you feel happy for no reason, and sometimes you feel sad for no reason. (seriously all I could come up with)
Brian: But why do I feel sad?
Me (laughing nervously): Umm. I don't know. Did something happen?
Brian: No.
Me: Oh...well it'll be okay. (one of the 20 other kids was calling me)

Nice, right? I go home and tell my roommates, and end up with this conversation:

Becky: That was not okay to say! It is not normal to feel sad for no reason.
Christine: Yeah. He's going to end up committing suicide and you're going to be the one they interview – "There were warning signs..."

Peachy.

And then of course there was the latest discovery of calling each other incredibly inappropriate names.

"Miss Stewart! Jason called me a (!)"
"Alright, there will be NO more anatomy insults in here!"
"What's anatomy?"
"Oh...never mind."

(at least I didn't say 'anatomical'...)

The third charming conversation I had today happened when I was sitting at a table brainstorming with Emma Cole.

Emma looked over at me: "When you were nine, is this what you thought you'd be doing when you were 22?"

I looked down at the list of gangsta words we had been compiling for a rap song. On my computer was a website with a list of international slang words for police officers. (Ranging from "bobbies" to "po-lice" (pronounced "po-lease").)

"Well...no." I looked at her quizzically.

"I'm just pointing out the difference between reality and perceived reality," she went all psych-major on me. "So when we're 40 –"

"We'll still be cool?"

"No. If we're not cool now, we never will be."