Sometimes, my students don't say what they mean. Just
this afternoon, a girl was incensed that a boy took her
stuff.
Mrs. Upstairs Basementia gave me a highlighter, and
Bobby flushed it down the toilet!
What? How did the two of you come to be in the same
bathroom?
Well, we weren't. That's what Johnny told me--that
Bobby flushed it.
Why did you let him look at it?
I didn't. See...he got in my purse.
He got in your purse? He must be really tiny!
Yeah, well he got in my purse and he took it out and...
She didn't get it. But the kid standing by me waiting
for help during our comedy did.
This morning, a boy came in late after getting his driver's
license.
How'd you do?
Passed it.
What was your score?
She took off for my parallel parking.
Couldn't you do it?
I ran into the sidewalk.
You backed onto the sidewalk?
No. I ran into the sidewalk. It was about two feet high,
and I backed into it. There was a 'bump', and I said,
"Oops!" and pulled up into the space.
Is that all?
No. She said I didn't look good enough.
That's an outrage! How dare they grade your driving
on your appearance!
No, she meant that when I pulled out, I didn't look
good enough for traffic.
Nobody got my little joke. They rarely do. Try as I
might to entertain myself throughout the day, the lot
that I have this year don't make the connection. I
suppose that means it takes 3-4 years to develop a
sense of humor compatible with Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.
Or else I've lost my funny.
8 comments:
Sounds like they're not the sharpest knives in the draw.
After years and years of torment by myself and my sister, Abby has a superb grasp of little things like that. She might rolls her eyes and sigh heavily, denoting that she finds us to be the stupidest people on the planet, but still, she gets it. Makes a mom proud.
Maybe you need to repeat yourself a couple times, and have a hip-hop beat playing in the background. At least, that's what passes for comedy on BET.
Incidentally, I will not be fielding any questions as to why I was watching BET.
HMom, the slow (or stubborn) ones come in herds, huh? A 9th grade group that I am currently dealing with is filled with really bright kids who WON'T act right, and their former 7th and 8th grade teachers say they've been impossible to deal with since they first started school. I say it's what we get for putting them into classes that never change, so they are with the same people year after year and the only thing that changes is the teacher. It gives them too much of an advantage-- they can get their torture-the-teacher routine down to perfection before 6th grade!
Stewed Hamm, THANK YOU for making fun of BET's comedy. I have been meaning to do that. More, please?
btw you never changed my url on your blogroll. I assume that's because you forgot and not because I've been bumped off the list of cool kids, so I thought I'd point it out. Politely. While simultaneously acknowledging that you don't have to change it if you don't wannnnnt to...
Lantern,
No, they're not the brightest Crayons in the box.
Diva,
Yes, you are right to be OH SO PROUD of your young 'un.
Stewtheconnoisseuroffinecomedy,
I can't imagine how I've missed a channel named BET, what with me bein' all about the wagerin' of money.
Miss Ann,
We have two classes in a row like that...the 9th and 10th.
I didn't change the url because I thought you were, perhaps, in some sort of double-secret blogger-protection program. I was not sure about giving you a shout-out in my posts, either. I'll get right on that url thingy. I also know that there is some dead meat hangin' out there in my roll, but I'm just a slacker about cleaning things up. (Said the prepostition-ending-sentence-lover, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.)
I once had a similar problem of my jokes flying right over someone's head, only it wasn't a kid, but the head of my department at an old job. She would say something that was just too perfecft a set-up to let slide, I'd chime up with a joke, most of my co-workers would stifle laughs, and she would respond (in a horribly exasperated voice), "No, Todd, that's not how it works," and then proceed to explain to me why my joking statement was completely wrong without any sense of irony whatsoever.
I've often wondered if there was a connection between that and the fact that, in the three years I worked there, I was the only worker she never baked a cake for on their birthday. Myabe incompatible senses of humor disqualified me from the cake-baking rotation.
Cappy,
No cakey-love for YOU! Maybe you should be relieved she didn't bake you one. There might have been a little surprise in it. The kind that could silence you forever.
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