Yesterday was a good day at school.
In homeroom two girls were gossiping loudly across the room to each other about one of their neighbors. I interrupted to explain that if they want to talk about someone’s problems, they should talk just about their own. Since they didn’t seem inclined to stop gossiping unless I was talking, I just kept on talking.
“It’s like sharing time in church,” I said. “I don’t like when people tell all about their great aunt’s cousin’s nephew’s sister-in-law. People should just talk about what they are dealing with, themselves.”
A student piped up. “But if you go to church, Mr. Jacobs, why don’t you say the Pledge of Allegiance?”
“Religious reasons,” I said.
She seemed satisfied, but another student said, “What sort of religious reasons?”
“Just that I think I should pledge myself only to my faith.”
He seemed satisfied.
Later, a boy brought me a poem his mom had printed for me, an Internet doozy of English-language plural quirks (goose becomes geese but a moose sure doesn’t become meese). His general question to the class was, “Will Mr. Jacobs laugh? Will he smile? Oh look–he’s smiling! He’s laughing!” (It was a funny poem, after all.)
Another student piped up: “It’s like when a baby walks for the first time,” he said.
Later the day even got better. A student brought her project from Spanish class, a confetti-filled egg that when smashed over someone’s head brings good luck (a cascarón). Good student that she is, she asked for permission first. Email me if you’d like a link to the video of the scene, narrated by my student with the amazing radio voice.
