It’s been awhile – since Thanksgiving, actually – and I am regretting the fact that I didn’t write as frequently toward the end of the year. Life gets busy and distracting. I have four spicy little stories to throw on here in the next week, but in the meantime, I have two little nuggets to share regarding my return to the classroom this past week.
Those of you who know me are aware that I keep a quote book where I write down humorous things that colleagues and students say. These two tidbits are quote book worthy.
The first occurred on our second day back to work when we entered the building to discover that alas, there was no power. In a highly uncharacteristic change of weather, it had rained heavily the night before. Roads became rivers overnight and required “no wake” signs by morning; traffic was sluggish and all I kept thinking about was the old Oregon Trail computer game where players could choose to ford the river, which usually resulted in the wagon dissembling and everyone drowning.
At school, it was dark, cold, and the floors were muddy. When first period began, I told the students I would be keeping track of time with my cell phone.
“I assume the bells won’t be working today,” I told them. Most students nodded, but a girl in the front seemed confused.
“Really? Why not?”
I glanced up at the darkened room and a few of the kids giggled.
“I’ll give you a minute to think about that one,” I told her. A few minutes later, she had a revelation.
“OH!” she cried. I smiled, assuming she understood. “The rain ruined them last night?”
“What? The power is out.”
The second story is a glorious little tale involving one of my favorite subjects, the English language. We were reading a story in class on Thursday, the last day of a surprisingly grueling three-day week that even involved a half day for the power outage and still managed to feel grueling.
“Miss, what’s a sewer?” (Pronounced: So-er)
“It’s sewer,” I corrected. I asked the only student in a class of fourteen who knew what sewers were to explain.
“Besides, a sewer [pronounced so-er] is someone who makes clothes,” added another student.
“No, that would be a seamstress, I think,” I said.
“Wait. I thought a seamstress was…what do you call someone who is alone because no one loves them?”
I found the exchange to be hilarious, as did many of my students. And I drew a blank on spinster – it was one of my kids who offered that one up.
It’s good to be back!