My Students Make Me Laugh

Generally speaking, period six is a tough period. For whatever reason, it's usually comprised of an odd assortment of personalities that wouldn't normally go together, but somehow end up together right after lunch. This year is no exception.

The kids in my sixth period class are the loudest kids in the hallway. I mean, if I linger outside my door for even a minute or two after the bell, the ruckus that they make is audible all the way down to the lobby. They are noisy. And rowdy. And even though they drive me crazy and I'm usually ready to part ways after forty-two minutes, I genuinely adore all of them, because in addition to being loud and rowdy, they are smart. When I can get them to focus (not an easy task!), they come up with some of the best observations regarding texts read in class.

They're also bizarre, though. Let me give you an example.

The other week, I was standing at my desk and some of the boys (the class is composed of mostly boys; I think I've got maybe six girls in the mix) were discussing which United States Presidents they could effectively "take down." Abraham Lincoln was among the mix, seeing as John Wilkes Booth really did take him down, but there were others. James Madison was mentioned, I believe... and maybe Thomas Jefferson? I don't remember. It was just such a strange topic of conversation, you know? And in the midst of it, one of the boys (we'll call him Chicken) saw a spider crawling under his desk and literally moved the entire desk away from the group of desks where he was positioned.

My classroom furniture is that chair-attached-to-the-desk nonsense. One doesn't just "scoot" back from the desk... but Chicken sure did! It made me think that he really couldn't take down any US President, seeing as he is terrified of a tiny spider.

Period six is also quite helpful. Everytime I close my school laptop, I need to reenter the code to log back in, but I noticed my students didn't have to do this. I asked about it and Mr. Goof (that's not his real name) explained that I could set up the little button in the top right corner to identify my fingerprint. He then proceeded to walk me through the procedure, offering encouragement along the way: "Yep, that's right, Ms. Meeson. Just lift up that finger and put it back down on the button. Up, down; up, down. Now you need to get the edges. That's good. Yep, just like that. You've got this. Fill in the ridges with red. You've got this." He reminds me of Little Chuck Little from To Kill A Mockingbird. Such a minor character, but he brings me joy each time I read that novel. Mr. Goof also brings me joy.

Period seven is a bit more subdued, but only a bit. I've got a student (we'll call him C.E. for Clogged Ears) in there who's forever asking me questions and not listening to the answers.

CE: How many sentences does this paragraph have to be?

Me: Five to seven.

CE: How many sentences should I make my paragraph?

Me: Five to seven sentences.

CE: Is there a length requirement for this paragraph?

Me: Am I not speaking English right now, or are you just ignoring my answer?

Recently, my student Chipper McCheerful asked about my love of octopuses. I was wearing an octopus sweatshirt and I have an octopus tapestry on my classroom wall and it's just known that I think octopuses are cool creatures. CE volunteered, "The Mexican store down the street sells frozen octopuses."

I told him I wasn't in the market for a frozen octopus.

CE: Right, but the Mexican store down the street sells frozen octopuses.

I'm not making this up. These are real conversations that occur in the middle of discussing foil characters and the symbolism of seasons found in Ray Bradbury's writing. "When Charles Halloway considers The Most Beautiful Woman in the World, he considers her as a proper noun. A carnival attraction. A show of sorts. But when Tom Fury considers the most beautiful woman in the world, he does so without capital letters. This is Bradbury showing that Tom, unlike Charles, has an overwhelming desire to be with the woman in the block of ice."

CE: You can get a frozen octopus right down the street, though!

Oh. My. Goodness.