That clacking would've got on my nerves too.....

Milwaukee school teacher cuts the braid of a little girl that had a ton of colored plastic beads at the ends. I know how this went down:
Teacher shows up to school ready to handle her lesson plan - read a little, write a little, do some math problems, go to PE, then lunch, out for recess, color some worksheets, give a test - go home. But In walks little ghetto mama with some new braids clicking and clacking like she's cute. You tell her, "listen little Zamboynique, keep your braids quite - they might distract others." She goes about like the teacher hasn't said shiggity. Clicking clacking, just raking the teachers nerves and entertaining a few bad ass chilen'. The other sensible children, the minority in the class, can't stand it, and quietly make eye contact with the teacher to let her know that the plastic beads are getting on their nerves as well - this gives the now irritated teacher ammunition to either send little Zamboynique-isha to the Principal's Office or scare her into a transient state where the beads may not irritate her for a while.
So, "Pull out your Science books and turn to page 187 (lol), and little Keyshawn - will you read outloud?" "The solar system is made of .....", little Zamboynique-isha-shae comes skipping forward just trying to make the braids clack, "Miss Tyler, can I go to the bathroom?" You give the nod. Suddenly as the clacking disappears the whole class settles down and for about 15 minutes it's quiet. The class has read the chapter and is busy doing a few textbook questions when, wait where the ClickClacker?
You assign a name-taker, and rush down the hallway looking for the sound of sparsely falling marbles, but hear nothing, enter the restroom and there she is - standing in the mirror clacking her beads. You tell her, in a worldy tone, "Look I'm not putting up with that clicking and clacking anymore, you need to tell your mother I said to tie those up and take them out." Little Zamboynique-isha-shae-shawn smacks her lips and looks the teacher up and down, says 'yeah whatever', and strolls past the teacher and back to the classroom. The teacher wanted to rip out those braids, and kick little mama's tail, but no. She comprises herself and goes back to class knowing that she's given strike two.
Now, back in class the little girl swooshes her head around to pick up her bookbag, then again to sit up straight, again to get the braids out of her face, then to the other side. The teacher, underpaid, and over-irritated sees red and grabs a pair of scissors to scare the little girl - but the little girl ain't scurred. Begins to cut one....The little girl begins show saddness and conjure up a few tears - starts saying 'my mama's gonna kisk yo ass'.
The little girls shuts those braids up and the rest of the day was pleasant. That very evening the teacher turns on the news and there she is - the little girl crying and sobbing, acting nothing like the hood terror that she really is - using proper English. The Hood mama trying to get you fired, speaking like she doesn't smell like cigarettes and yestarday - knowing full well you don't put those raggedy beads on little girls until summertime.

She doesn't lose her job though. Teachers - 1, hood kids - 2 many 2 count.