Mod show in vocational

On holidays, after the third quarter, I was asked to "bring ninth graders to the event." I am afraid of children whom I do not know, but I still couldn’t refuse.

"Hooray! We are going to vocational schools for a fashion show! ” At the same time, my buds were taken away from my news - which means that there will be other nine -graders there! But nowhere to go.

Morning at the school porch: Half, there are no SMS from unknown numbers - “I am waiting for a call”. We get acquainted. I can’t remember the names and confuse them. Ninth graders are angry. I tell funny stories. We get on the bus.

There are two groups on the bus: boys and girls. The first - so that the second is heard - is attached literally to every movement of the conductor: parody, they require passage by “pieces of paper”, and not with a trifle, ask why we are at the bus stop for a long time and “who we are waiting for?”. I look displeased and think: "Really, who are we waiting for?"

On the street, the group was immediately divided into two parts: into ducklings and non -residents. Zhubschiki told where they had a summer house and that someone recently crashed at a snowmobile. To my question "What are you doing on holidays?" They answered that they were sleeping and "watching kinchiki." The swollen non -residents with the antennae went with a bored detached look, but eavesdropped and wanted to drink.

In vocational schools, we were given a large audience for changing clothes. In this audience were other guys. The girls unfastened the bras, the boys tied the laces for a long time and showed each other their swimming trunks, pulling them over the edges.

A few minutes later, fanfares from Star Wars sound, and the opening of this fashionable show begins, in which model studios from all over the region participate. Children in cellophane bags, with artificial flowers on the head, painted in the style of the Aqua group, with blue lips and yellow eyes - worry and move from foot to foot. Parents take out cameras, and here the relatives of the daughters abruptly begin to stick their hips, ribs, grab themselves by the stomach, in general, behave extremely unnaturally. The composition of the photos is unpretentious and is always similar to: “I am against the background of the Board of Honor”, ​​“I am at the wall”, “I hold the sun with my hand.” I'm smiling. They say to me: "step away." Their collection does not have enough photography with fern.

My nine -graders are already tired - they are looking for a dining room, a toilet and they say that they need to leave because they have a meeting. They just don't want to be in this company. Grybok girl proudly goes past us. I'm laughing.

Then the boy Denis takes out the camera, and it turns out that he is here in order to shoot in HD. I also wanted to find a dining room, but she did not work.

All technical personnel of the competition are pTU students. When we brought a flash drive with the track, to which young models will pace, they told us:
“What are you saying?! Came to their senses. "

Two hours passed, and the third hour of the jury decided to whom to give letters (no one hinted about prizes). For an hour. When announcing the results before the name of each team, “exemplary” sounded. I would also add polyethylene. The chairman of the jury wished Perm to become "not only a cultural, but also a fashionable capital."

We are without prizes. We are unmade, we did not catch the general trend. Brought -up children slide Strazins from T -shirts, unleashed bows and scarves.

After the store, we got on the bus. Apparently, they decided to make friends with me-they began to ask how much I get, they began to laugh for no reason, something
whisper to each other. I fell asleep.

Ninth graders talk about the historian Arthur Evgenievich. Proudly. Now they throw the coin in his face, competing who will get into the forehead. I see what they have in their hands. Maybe coins are also, maybe they are now fucking.
“Everyone has their own jokes, you have to get used to it,” I say.
“He does not love us,” someone answers, and the rest nod and cut under the seats of packaging from juices along with wraps from chocolate and rolls. Someone else dropped the bag.
- Raise, - I say.
“And I don’t need him,” I get an answer.
We are starting to argue. On any argument - I hear: "This is my opinion."
I begin to understand what I have to give in. I give in and silent. In short, I am sure that when you give way, you show not weakness, but strength. Suddenly. Ninth graders do not know what to do. And I know.

I recommend them a great movie, because they watch some kind of trash. By the way, I advise books with the wording "She is very cool." They answer: “lol”, and finally something happens similar to communication, exchange of views.

And my seven-graders-lacishes in the last lesson of the third quarter talked about their favorite books. In addition to Harry Potter, “Scarlet Sails” were clogged on the list (Mom makes a homemade), computer games books, as well as Dostoevsky’s story “Boy at Christ on the Christmas tree” and “The Kingdom of Fear” by Hunter S. Thompson from an alternative orange series. I can’t help but quote: “This is a story of crazy trips, ignited by Bourbon and acid, a saga about giant wilds, girls, weapons, explosives .... In the heart of America, at the very time, when the president of moron and new stupids took control of wars against terror, evil, and unhealthy lifestyle.”
- Where did you get this book?
- The older brother advised.

We are discussing a lot with them, I think that this is teaching: always be one teacher in a separate subject, so that the teachers do not change every year, ask “how are you?” And do not climb through the whole line in the canteen for your cutlets. After all, we are united by a lot. For example, calculating the day of the week, we all present a school diary.