What to call my dad at school…

Its a bizarre thing having your dad as the English teacher in your school.  He teaches eighth grade.  I’m in eighth grade.  So its just weird.  He’s the only English teacher who teaches Honors English too, so I have to be in his class since its an honors class.  I never know what to call him.  It feels natural to call him Dad, but to say that is strange too when your at school.  But it feels totally bizarre to call him by his teacher name.  That’s just insane crazy weird.  Nobody else is quite in that situation.  There’s a seventh grader whose mom is the principal.  And another kid whose mom is the vice-principal, but they don’t actually have their parents as a teacher.  There’s this other girl in honors English too whose Mom teaches elementary school, the same school where Cheyenne teaches kindergarten.  I should talk to her about it.  She must have went through something like this back then.

Here’s the thing, though, its hard to talk to her.  I sit just in front of her.  And she’s really really pretty.  But I can’t ever turn around, can’t talk to her.  And she’s so popular.  She’s got so many friends.  When I’m close I feel all those butterflies and things that people feel when they like somebody.  I guess that’s what it is.  But maybe I could use that whole parent-as-teacher thing as something to get us talking.

And no I didn’t have to pay up on the bet yet.  And no I’m not going to write down what I bet either in here!  Its way too embarassing, so don’t even ask me!