ORANGE COUNTY VOICES : A Teacher and Her Students All Want to Be Like Mike : The youngsters find a hero in Michael Jordan, but this instructor longs for the professional amenities of her accountant husband.

Thirty fresh little minds, disguised in Ninja Turtle shirts and M.C. Hammer pants, walked into my classroom last month. They are the best thing about my job. They are why I get up in the morning. I like what they think about, and I like how they say it. One of the new boys who just moved to our area from Atlanta told me he liked my “half-shoes.” I was wearing clogs.

And honest? For the most part they are painfully honest. A girl I’ve known since she was in kindergarten told me, with her nose scrunched up in disgust, that I still looked pretty even with my new haircut. It’s funny. I hate it too.

I like them because they’re not like adults. It’s as if they have no memory, at least they never seem to harbor a grudge. I can lecture them for 15 minutes on something terrible they did, and two minutes later they’re at PE thinking I’m the greatest thing.

They all want to grow up and be great. They want to be like Mike. I do too. I don’t want to be like Michael Jordan, but sometimes I would like to be like my husband, Mike. He has a real job. He’s an accountant. He’s not facing any budget cuts.

For starters, I sure would like an expense account like Mike. And I’m not talking about one for martini business lunches. I’m talking about for my bread-and-butter student supplies like paper, pencils, scissors and crayons. And for all my supplies like Xerox paper, construction paper and PE equipment.

Keeping my expenses to a bare minimum, I spend a lot of my own money on my classroom each month. I buy supplies for science experiments every week at the grocery store. I buy literature books to tie in with my curriculum whenever I’m at a bookstore. I like to buy all my kids a little something at Christmas, and a treat on Valentine’s Day. I could go on and on.

And I would like a phone like Mike. I would like to be able to call a parent when I need to, without borrowing one from a secretary. Can you imagine going to your office job and not having a phone? Schools do not have the money to provide this luxury to their staff. It would be too expensive.

I would like a Xerox machine like Mike. I would like to be able to give my students black copies of their work instead of the smelly, purple ditto ones. Remember those? They are hard to read. But we have to ditto the work because one Xerox machine for the entire staff simply could not accommodate the load of papers that would generate. This doesn’t even take into consideration a fax machine or a word processor with a printer or maybe just my own old typewriter.

I would really like some letterhead like Mike too. I would like to look as well as sound professional when I send a note home. And I would like to include a business card, too. But then again, it’s not as if I need one, after all, I don’t have a business phone number I could put on it.

I would also like to do my professional growth like Mike. While his company last year sprung for him to spend the week at the Marriott in Newport Beach, attending seminars with ocean views, enjoying juices and Danish pastries, I was in a smelly dorm with no coffee, at my expense.

I would like to be paid like Mike. I want to have a cost of living increase of at least 2% or 3% a year and get a merit increase, if deserved. I’m not asking for a Christmas bonus here. I knew teaching was not a “get rich” profession when I went into it. I just don’t want to lose money every year, which Mike says I’m doing, even at our 3% cost of living increases. With the new cuts, this is no longer a sure thing.

This may sound petty, but I would like some amenities like Mike. I would like some real toilet paper in the teacher’s bathroom, not those little squares that always fall all over the floor. It’s a pet peeve of mine. At “thirtysomething” I just don’t see myself using those little squares of toilet paper. It’s hard to leave the bathroom feeling like a professional.

And I would like some drinkable water. The faucets aren’t clean, so we have to lug those plastic gallon jugs of water to work each Monday. And if I forget, I have to go borrow some. It’s kind of embarrassing.

Yeah, I’d like to be like Mike too. But then one of my kids will say something. Like the other morning. I told my class to give me a second, that I was a little behind schedule getting to work. One little boy said, “Oh really? Where do you work?” And it suddenly dawned on me, I love my job. I love the kids. They deserve a teacher that feels like a professional and the tools they need to learn.

I have the solution to this state’s educational fiscal crisis. Those state officials just need to fly down and spend a day in my classroom. They’d be whipping out that American Express in a minute. Just like I do.

Carrie Wulf teaches at Carl Hankey Elementary School in Mission Viejo.