Urban Dictionary Comes to Life.

It's a Wednesday evening in August and the sun has just disappeared from the sky, taking with it the sticky heat that has clutched Los Angeles all day.

I am driving back to work with dinner I just picked up for the teenagers taking make-up classes at the office, trying to finish the 30 hours required for me to hand them a laminated certificate stating they've completed the Life Skills Training program. The sky is hazy pink and my car smells like fried chicken.

When I walk through the door with plastic bags full of rice and chicken and mac & cheese, the kids start complaining that I didn't get pizza or cheeseburgers or taquitos. I tell them to shush and wash their hands before they eat, which they do.

There's only a handful of them tonight and most of them just finished their last day of summer school, so everyone is in a good mood. The girls are teasing Trey about a crush he has and he's protesting.

"Uh-UH!" he says. "You guys are trippin.' I'm not in love with her!" He pronounces "love" with an "uhhhh" in the middle.

"Oh, Trey!" Janet hollers at him. "Stop gettin' all butt hurt and stuff."

I glance up from my plate of food. "What'd you just say, Janet? 'But her'?" I'm terribly confused.

They all look at me. "Yeah, Miz. Jenn," Janet says. "Y'know. Butt hurt."

I don't know. I look at her quizzically. "No. What does 'but her' mean?"

They start to laugh. "Naw, Miz. Jenn! Not 'butt her!' BUTT. HURT." Trey yells. "Like when your feelings get hurt over somethin' dumb. When it ain't serious."

I've never heard the expression before, but everyone else seems to know it, even the class instructor, who is older than I am.

"Okay, okay," I say. I nod my head. "You guys are teaching me something new. I'm going to use this expression later, though." I pause. "So, I could say something like, 'I got in a fight with my roommate and I'm low-key butt hurt?'"

"Awwww!" John puts one finger to his lips and points the other at me. "Miz. Jenn, did you just say 'low key?'" They're all bent over at the waist, laughing.

"It ain't 'low-key' anymore though, Miz. Jenn!" Trey informs me. "That's like, two, three months ago. Now it's 'low-ball.'"

"Aw, that's some Crenshaw talk," Janet teases Trey.

"What? What? You talkin' bout Crenshaw?" John says. "Don't make me come up to you, girl. You be talkin' bout Crenshaw." Everyone is laughing.

"I'm not even from Crenshaw," Trey says. "I was born in Compton."

I turn around to face him, a stocky 17 year-old with a neck tattoo and a sweet grin. "Alright, what do you guys say in Compton then?"

He pauses for a second. "Aw, we say like, 'You roastin' him.'"

"Roasting?" I ask. I fan myself with my hand. "Like you're hot?"

They all look at each other and explode with laughter again. Trey is gasping.

"Hot? She say hot? Nobody hear that?" John yells.

Janet looks at me and smiles. "Nah, like when you're making fun of someone. Like you're roasting them."

They're all talking over each other now, trying to come up with words and expressions to teach me. They can't believe how little I know.

"Naw, we gotta teach her mickey!" Trey is yelling now. "She gotta know that, she be dealin' with some gang-bangers!"

I try to quiet them down, as the noise level is reaching deafening levels. Latrice is now playing the new Nicki Minaj song on her phone, which is competing with hardcore rap coming from Andrew's iPod.

Shorty I'm only gonna tell you this once, you the illest, sings Nicki. And for your love I'm a die-hard like Bruce Willis. I think briefly about dancing to Annie Lennox in my living room as a little girl.

"Okay, okay. One at a time," I tell them. "And anyway. I think it's time I teach you guys some expressions."

They look doubtful. "What you gonna teach us?" Trey asks.

"Well. How about some British expressions? Like, right now I really need you all to belt up!"

Confusion passes over their faces. "Belt up? What's that mean, Miz. Jenn?" John asks.

"It means to be quiet," I say, smiling.

"For real?" Janet says.

"Your parents are British?" Trey is asking. "They strict and stuff? They always make sure your room ain't dirty?"

John is waving his hands. "Wait, wait, Miz. Jenn! Can you say something to us in British? Like your parents say it?"

I laugh. I tell them that if they promise to clean up the remnants of dinner, to wash the dishes and throw away all their trash, I'll fake a British accent. They eagerly agree.

I put on my most posh accent. "Okay. My mom might say something like, 'Jennifer, darling. Would you fancy some strawberries or a glass of water?'" I don't pronounce the r at the end of my name, and make the t's as crisp as possible.

They are all giggling. Janet tells me I sound like I'm from the film "Titanic." They beg me to say something else.

"Oh my gawd, Miz. Jenn!" Latrice squeals. "What other languages do you speak besides that?"