I thought I would get in a quick blog post, and I knew I had some pretty good material courtesy of my hilarious 3rd graders. The beauty of children is that they are funny, without having to try to be funny. They are at their most amusing when they are not even trying to be funny or cute, usually when they are being innocently, adorably, dead serious. These are actual lines said/written by very serious 3rd graders who mean business:
Teacher, my hair smells like mustard.
I am late because I had to poop.
It wasn’t me, I take farts outside.
I can’t move right now, I am like a turtle on it’s back.
Maybe he wrote different perspectives because the narrator wanted to, so the author said ‘yes’?
God is #1, you are #2.
You will achieve all your dreams and eat s’mores.
Just a few Wednesday funnies for my readers. Enjoy.
Tag: school
Took a Fart
It’s time to tell it like it is. If you’re a teacher, or you were once a student (this should include everyone. If not, um…) then you know that expelling gas is a huge part of the learning experience, almost more than actual learning. We all remember that embarrassing time we just couldn’t hold it in anymore and we farted in the middle of silent reading time. Or, the time we let go of a silent, but deadly bastard, and our red face gave us away. We all fart. We also have spent a huge chunk of our lives in a classroom, so it’s only natural that tooting happens at school. It happens a lot.
Today, immediately following a serious chat about why it’s important to pay attention, and why whistling during a lesson doesn’t lead to success, one of my students let out a fart that was likely heard in the next room. They were all on the carpet, sitting tall and proud like 3rd graders who are responsible for their own learning. They all (even the culprit) had expectant, eager-to-please, and innocent expressions painted on their little faces. The fart was a mistake. It was not intended to derail learning. And it was just what my stressed-out, exhausted, and wound-up psyche needed.
Basically, I lost it.
Teaching 101 says you never, never respond or react to a fart. Ever. Two very simple reasons why:
- They (your students) will take your laughter as license to act like wild hyenas, and your lesson is as good as over.
- The poor tooter will feel humiliated, and you try to avoid that as an educator and role model.
So, despite my knowledge of these possible outcomes, I lost all composure, and had a very serious, ugly-laughing fit. I was crying. I couldn’t regain my composure. It was awful. At first, I tried to hide my laughter behind my math teacher manual, but eventually someone said, “Um, teacher, are you OK?” I don’t usually sit with a book directly over my face, in front of my whole class, for an extended period of time. They likely thought I had gone crackers. When it could no longer be kept a secret that I was laughing like a fool, I kept saying, “OK, that’s enough. OK. That’s it.” Except I was the only one laughing.
You know those laughing fits you’ve had with a really good friend? The kind where you start making some ungodly repetitive noise and you almost gag yourself? Yeah.
I could not stop.
Eventually, my kids decided it was safe for them to laugh as well. Amidst the laughing and fake farts, someone accused Fred* of farting, and he proclaimed, quite seriously, “It wasn’t me! I take farts outside!” More laughing. Basically, math was over for the day. Thank God we were at the end of the lesson. Also, the teacher gods were watching over me today, for sure, because how awesome would it have looked had my principal walked in, mid-gagging laughing fit? I can’t even.
Some days I rock the shit out of teaching, and some days I’m the reason a single toot derails learning.
At least we had a nice chat about how everyone makes mistakes, farting is only natural, and we weren’t laughing at anyone, but with them.
In honor of my idiotic lack of self-composure and well, because farts, here is a list of truths about gas in the classroom:
- It doesn’t matter the kid, the age, the time of day, or whether it’s before or after lunch, ALL kid farts smell.the.same.
- We (teachers) have announced, at least once in our careers, after a barrage of fart smells, “I think someone maybe needs to go to the bathroom!”
- Students whose first language is Spanish say, “Took a fart”, because that’s the literal translation for ‘farting’.
- The phrase, “Took a fart” never gets old. Ever.
- Every teacher, in the history of teaching, has been guilty of intentional crop dusting, at least once. It’s only fair.
- Physical Education has a higher incidence of farting when compared to other classes, double the rate of incidences after lunch.
***Side note: My own boyfriend once earned an award for maintaining correct sit up form, even whilst farting. Fart pro.
And that’s all I have to say about farting (in a Forrest Gump voice).
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Bad Cupcakes!
Yesterday was the last day of school (Schools…out…for…SUMMER). I have exactly 58 Saturday’s ahead of me (more about that blessed dilemma later). I started my summer vacation off in a very positive, good-Samaritan way. Let me explain.
Naturally, one of my students brought cupcakes to celebrate the last day of school (I’m not only known as a cupcake-lover on my blog). As it was the last day, my students were leaving early left and right. When we finally had our room cleaned up, things packed, and I finally participated in a Just Dance video for my students’ amusement (more on that later, too…), it was Cupcake Time. The 24 cupcakes were more than enough, there were 8 left. Of course, the student who brought them was fully planning on taking them home. I would like to make it amply clear that I would never stoop so low as to beg a nine-year-old for their leftover cupcakes. I’m not that far gone.
The mad rush to collect all of their precious end-of-year goodies and give me hug after hug, coupled with their desire to get the hell out of school, made for a whirlwind ‘goodbye’ with my students. Yearbooks were left. Data folders, that they would have trashed anyways, were left. Their had-to-have, homemade letters from their friends were left. And, the cupcakes. They were left. Two, almost empty, boxes of vanilla cupcakes were left. I figured she would be back. I waited a few, anxious minutes. Guilt-ridden, I went outside, hopefully, albeit reluctantly, to try to find her. 3 minutes after the bell had rung, and it was a ghost town outside. “Lost” report cards, confetti, and papers littered the ground. All was still, but for a tumbleweed that blew across in the breeze. She was gone. They were mine.
I felt a sudden internal glee that only fat people, who have an unhealthy love for baked goods, ever feel. I knew it was bad news that I now possessed 8 entire cupcakes, cupcakes topped with the sweetest confection of sugar ever created, but my unhealthy addiction and glee overwhelmed my sense of good judgement.
If anyone saw me leaving school with all of my treasures, they surely videotaped it and uploaded it onto YouTube with the heading, “Watch Fatty Teacher Leave School and Almost Drop Two Boxes of Cupcakes Exactly 32 Times”. I can just see the comment section now: “Damn, she dropped her phone, purse, bag of whatever, and her keys, but she didn’t drop the cupcakes-no words”. That would have been the nicest thing said.
When I finally got home, lugged in all of my shit, along with my prize, I felt victorious. I made it home, and not one cupcake was injured.
My boyfriend was aghast that I brought two boxes of cupcakes home, as he shares my love (and obvious addiction) of anything remotely sweet. He, too, envisioned us sitting on the couch, in our fat pants, devouring them all. All he had to say was, “Babe…” and it all became clear. I have serious problems. We did NOT need 8 cupcakes, like at all. The cherry on top: my boyfriend then asked me, “Why didn’t you put them all in one box?” Good God. Not only am I fat, I’m a fucking genius too.
So, to address how I began my summer vacation in a Good Samaritan way, I put all 8 cupcakes (in two boxes) out by the dumpsters in the alley, for the bums. Almost daily, we have homeless people digging in the dumpsters. All they ever find is moldy spaghetti leftovers and black bananas. Last night, one lucky vagrant came upon a gold mine. I’m such a saint. You’re welcome.
Here is the proof:
And, the proof that our local homeless people have more smarts than a teacher. Whomever took the cupcakes likely transferred them all to one box. Doh!
So, there you have it. I have started off my summer on a positive, healthy note (I won’t mention that I attended our school’s happy hour, devoured a food truck Philly cheesesteak, and ended the night with a Double Caramel Magnum-I can only give up so much!)