Miss Homie

All 26 of them getting ready to go home....complete and total chaos.
It's a jumble of lockers and backpacks and homework folders and, "Do I ride the bus today?" questions to which I have no answer.
Girls with fuzzy gloves and last minute secrets that just must be told before they depart for the day.
And then there's the front of the line.
The boys that think it is their right to "budge" in front of everyone.
The seven year olds that walk around in Fubu and Nike and G Unit and plastic 'bling' and refer to themselves pimps.
Today there was too much pushing and head swiveling for my liking so I moved to the front of the line. Usually that's all it takes....a good "stop that" look, and my presence that silently says, "I saw what you were doing and let it go....for now." But on this Monday they pushed farther....
"You can't be up here," they said.
"Oh really? Why not?" I inquired.
"This is for homies only," they informed me.
"No one told you? I am Mrs. Homie, and I get to stand wherever I want." I challenged.
They looked at each other, deciding who would get in the least amount of trouble for continuing our little exchange.
"Well we're allergic to girls," one finally said.
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "There's none at the end of the line - I think you'll do better back there."
"Ha ha ha!" they laughed, too fake for anyone to really believe. "We were kidding!"
"I wasn't," I said with a smirk that was really my laughter dying to come out. "Get to the end of the line."
"What! No way!" they argued. This was, after all, their coveted front of the line.
"That was a command, not a question," I reminded them.
One by one they moved to the end of the line, glaring all the way.
"See you tomorrow boys!" I said cheerfully as they left for the day.
It's a constant power struggle and process of analyzing when to engage and when to walk away. Engaging all the time would take every ounce of energy I have...but never engaging would undermine my posistion as an authority figure.
Balance and intentionality are the key.