How “Yo’ Momma’s So Fat” Jokes Made Me A Better Person

I think I grew up within the generation that had it socially tougher than my parents, but not as easy as our children. Sure, my parents had to cross a border in the dead of night, but they never had to deal with going to elementary school as an ESL student. My parents might have been able to survive a Mexican devaluation crisis, but they never had to deal with the playground jungle.

Elementary school was the kind of environment where you kept your head above water by one of two methods: either you were the kid that came in and knocked people’s heads off, or you were that merciless kid that made fun of people until they broke down in tears and became a psychological mess.

I fell into the latter category; I was a mess of flabby dough, so the only thing I could do is rely on observational humor. I was an artist at my craft. Anyone can tell you that your mother is so fat that she fell in love and broke it. I was the kind of kid that would ask a kid if his parents considered him a regret, or just another mistake.

For the record, let me state that this demonic side was not a regular part of my repertoire, but sometimes someone would get out of place and make fun of my shoes — even though back then Nikes were a rarity, while anything off the Payless Shoe Source rack was the norm. However, if you took your Payless-wearing-behind and made fun of my Payless shoes, it was most definitely on. It was magical and profane, like watching rams in the wild lock horns for dominance – the only difference being that these rams wore shoes that came apart when exposed to rainfall.

My generation was the last generation to grow up without self-esteem or feelings. Some teachers were quick to tell you what was on their mind with flowery language filled with profane adjectives. I remember there was this one time in third grade when the teacher kicked out a student from the classroom because his sweat made him smell like a wet dog. Back then, it was rare for a parent to take the word of a child over a student.

Things are different now, for better or worse. I work at a public school and I can tell you that children no longer go after each other in an individual basis. They now rely on their packs, as they strike when their target is alone or disconnected from their own pack. As an adult, I need witnesses to back up any of my arguments. Parents have raised their kids to believe that their self-esteem is paramount — and that they are equal to any teacher, and any unsatisfactory form of discipline does not apply to them.

I am not an advocate for criminalizing youth or excommunicating students from the classroom, but I am sure that a realistic medium must exist. Self-esteem is an essential in formulating our self-worth, but we also need the instincts to adapt.  The world will not hold your hand, but it will definitely chew it off.  Maybe if some of these students realized that their moms are so dumb, they bought Cheerios thinking them to be doughnut seeds, the world would be a happier place.