Only on occasions when we’ve netted considerable gain can we laugh about shooting ourselves in the foot.
Today in second period, following my brilliant first period reading of Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall,” a student told me, “Mr. Jacobs, Someone wrote all over my desk.” I leaned over to see the penciled lines, “OMG I am so bored.” I asked the student to erase it for me, remembered that the custodian had wiped off my student desks yesterday, and noted who had occupied that seat in first period.
In fifth period, my planning time, I tracked down the student, a pleasant girl who is really into death and stuff like that, and pulled her from her class. “What am I going to have to do?” she asked.
“Terrible things,” I told her, lugging a stack of 1,300 worksheets and a hole punch to a small table where she had pulled up a seat.
Halfway through her work, she asked, “Do I have to do all of this?”
“Yup,” I said.
“My mom makes me do this for her at her work, too.”
“Does she pay you?”
“No, I’m grounded. But I don’t mind it. Can I do this tomorrow, too?”
Oh well–I guess pain inflicted isn’t as important as work accomplished!
