Being a teacher is about enjoying quirkiness, which crops up everywhere.
A student with whom I have never before spoken walked past me today as he was leaving another classroom. “The difference about twins,” he informed me, “is the time when they’re born.”
Today, too, I graded spelling homework, which included one student’s definition of rodent: “a animal type usally not seen very often unless its dead on the side of the road.”
Then, at the end of the day, I dismissed class by saying, “Enjoy your evening, because when you come back tomorrow I’m going to make you as miserable as possible.”
“Yeah, right,” said one boy. “You always say that, and you never do.”
What kind words.
