… Kid kind of limps into my class the other day so I ask him what happened. “I fell and popped my butt knuckle.”
… Couple days later I overhear one student saying to another “Old people are cool. They’re just like us, only they’ve lived longer.”
… And then there’s always the ever-loved personal opinion about the teacher:
Which always breaks my little heart to see. If they only knew that those comments made us laugh rather than cry. (Now, if every kid hated me I just might cry or find another job, but you’re bound to tick off a few kids just trying to keep your class on task.) Especially since I’d say the majority of the students like me.
… And I fear for the future of this kid, not being able to tell the difference between furniture and love interests: (click on the picture to get a better view of it).
… And now, the finale, that part which is the inspiration for the title:
… Your mom ever yell at you “Don’t play with those scissors”? Yeah, mine did too. Must not have sunk in. Fourth period, my period from hell, has been pretty good this week. We’ve actually got some learning done, and although there are a couple of them that didn’t do anything, at least they let me teach the ones that wanted to learn. So, I must have been on a natural high (yeah, that’s my excuse). I can’t even remember why I had the scissors in my hand, but I was talking with the class while fiddling with them, and fiddled a nice chunk off one of my thumbs. (Had to re write THAT sentence a couple of times). Right there in class. That’s why it’s taken me an hour to write this post, it’s cut right at the point that hits the space bar. Fortunately I had band-aids in the desk, but we did almost have to use the oxygen mask on one of the girls that was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. Amazingly, most of the class was more concerned for my finger, and didn’t find it all funny until I was all bandaged and obviously going to survive.
… Anyway, hope you had as interesting a week.