One Girl

One of my favorite students of all time was absolutely crazy.

We'll call the girl Jan for this blog.

Jan was the most random person I have ever known. One day, during a test, she blurts out, "Mr, have I ever worn a yellow shirt?"

I had no idea...I had known her for a total of 3 months.
______________________________________________________________________

A few days later, during a quiet moment in class, Jan blurts out, "Mr, can you get in trouble if you backpack smells like weed?"

Why Jan?

No, mine doesn't...just one time it did and I was wondering.

______________________________________________________________________

Jan liked to steal make-up and clothes from the little shops around town, and especially from wal-mart.

She decided to steal a yellow shirt, to see what it was like to wear yellow. She got caught.
On the day of court she tells me she's turned over a new leaf, never going to steal again. It had been three entire days since stealing anything.

I mentioned that her clothes were rather girlish looking for once (she was rather emo usually). She said she wanted to dress nicely for court...these were the clothes she stole right before getting caught.

So, she was going to court for stealing while wearing stolen clothes.

______________________________________________________________________

Another day this kid who was a bit of a punk was wearing a pink shirt and everybody was teasing him about it. Once I got everybody to stop and calm down, Jan leaned over and whispered LOUDLY, "Hey, Lonnie, can I borrow a tampon?"
______________________________________________________________________

Another day in class, during a test again, Jan blurts out, "Hey Mr, you know...I can't think of a single person in my family that doesn't do drugs."

Poor kid. But as absolutely sweet as you can find anywhere. You'd be hard pressed to find someone with a better heart or lighter touch.

Which Gender?

A student had been absent for a few days. At the beginning of the lesson on her first day back she asked for her make-up work. Well, it was the beginning of the lesson in a room full of 32 OTHER students. I told her to ask me after class. She didn't.

Today she says, "Mr, you're not treating me fairly by not giving me my make-up work."
I reminded her that she didn't come to me after class or before class, when the time is appropriate for one-on-one discussions to ask for the work.

She said, "Don't put this on me. This is discrimination." She wasn't really mad, just trying to get me riled up...yanking my chain, so to speak.

She says, "Yeah, you're either racist or sexist."

I said, "Racist or sexist...huh. Sexist, against what gender?"

She got mad. It was awesome.

It's a Boy!

A female student is pregnant, and about a three months along.

She said to me during class, "Mr, my baby is going to be a boy."
I said, "Yeah, did you have a sonogram?"
"No, I can just feel it."

I said, "Really? What exactly can you feel?"

That tricky Alphabet

I'm in the copy room waiting in line. A student walks in, he's a 5th year senior and an office aid. His job is to place the mail in the mail boxes. The boxes are alphabetized.

He is putting mail in appropriate boxes. He's slow but steady, checking the name on the box with the letter. Eventually he stops, looking around for a while, searching for a name.

"What are you looking for?"
"Fluke," he said.
I pointed to the name. He thanked me and went back to his business.

I started to remember how many times I woke this kid up in geometry. I remembered how he'd lift his head, and his eyes would be as red as red could be. I went back further, to Algebra I. Same game. I went back further, summer school...same deal!

Soon, he got stuck again. He stood there, looking, looking, not finding.

"What are you looking for?"
"Falkner."
I pointed to the name. He thanked me and went back to his job.

About five minutes pass. I'm still waiting for the copy machine. The young man is sorting mail and he gets stuck, again.

"What are you looking for?"
"Fahrenz."

I pointed to the name.
"Thanks," he said, and went back to sorting. By this time, it was ritual.

I said, "Those damn F's, get you every time don't they?"

Foiled Again...by a hole in a chair.

A student today was in the mood for relaxing. However, you're not allowed to rest your feet on chairs in my class (think of the gum and stuff that's stepped in).

So, to be sly, he decided he'd slip his foot through the hole in the back of the chair, so he wouldn't have to turn it sideways and get caught.

It worked great...until it was time to sharpen his pencil. He couldn't get his foot out. It was stuck for a few moments, long enough that I asked if I should call the fire department.

About ten minutes later he decided to argue about 8 - 2 + 1 being 5, not 7. Some students began to agree with him...until I reminded them that he couldn't figure out how to extract his foot from a chair. What a, as we say in the business, "learning moment."