Me: “How was the parent-teacher conferences, Dad?”

Dad: “Er. Good. I, um, I met your math teacher.”

Me: “Oh, Mr. [Name]. Yeah, he’s a good teacher.”

Dad: “Oh, good. He’s a little on the young side, isn’t he?”

Me: “I think he’s in his late twenties… Dad? What did you say to him?”

Dad: “Well, he was wearing jeans and you must admit he does look very young…”

Me: “Dad! What did you say to my math teacher?!”

Dad: “I didn’t know he was a teacher! I thought he was a student, so I told him to pull his pants up and put his skateboard away!”

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(In my grade, lunch was served in an almost restaurant-like setting: round tables where a teacher would be the ‘head’ of each table, rather than standard cafeteria bench rows. One day I’m seated with the French teacher who is notorious about enforcing sets of table manners no one else has ever heard of. At the end of one lunch, I’m using a piece of bread to wipe up sauce, when she snaps.)

Teacher: “MONSIEUR [My Name]!”

Me: *startled so much I drop both bread and knife* “Wha?!”

Teacher: “In FRANCE, we do not do that!”

Me: “Well, good thing we’re not in France!”

(I nearly got detention for talking back to the French teacher, but thankfully I got not just the whole table to crack up but also the teacher that happened to be sitting right behind me, who vouched for me!)

(My friend and I are in biology class, texting each other. We’re reviewing electrophoresis, a process that’s used to separate DNA fragments. It was also an answer to a question on one of our tests that I completely forgot while I was writing it.)

Friend: “‘Electropho-I-don’t-know’…”

Me: “I believe what I wrote on the test was ‘electrosomething? How did I forget this? I’m so sorry’.”

Friend: “But electropho-I-don’t-know rhymes, though.”

Me: “We’re not writing slam poetry. It’s bio.”

(He doesn’t respond for a minute or two, and I look over to his desk to see him typing something long.)

Me: “Are you writing a slam poem? Because I swear to god—”

Friend: “Electropho-I don’t know. The smaller ones go fast, while larger goes slow. Why does it do that? I still don’t know. Bio is memorization. It ain’t a huge organization. You got primase, ligase, and polymerase. You just gotta know what the DNA wants to do those days…”

Me: “I cannot believe you…”

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(My husband and I are really into science and have passed this love into our eight year old daughter. We try not to ‘baby’ the explanations we give her and provide honest explanations to the numerous questions she has. One day, when we pick her up from school, she is upset and the teacher is asking to speak to us.)

Teacher: “I need you to speak to your daughter about being rude and correcting me in front of the other children!”

Me: “What? What happened?”

Teacher: “I was explaining how rainbows are made and she corrected me in front if the class.”

Husband: “[Daughter], is this true? What happened?”

Daughter: “Well, [Teacher] was telling the class about how rainbows are made and he told them the water reflected the light. I put up my hand and asked him if he meant refracted as that’s what really happens.”

Husband: “[Teacher], is this what happened?”

Teacher: “Yes. She really shouldn’t correct me. It confuses the other children.”

Me: “Was she right, though?”

Teacher: “She will confuse the other children!”

Me: “…but was she right?”

Teacher: “Well, yes, but children her age are too young to understand refraction, so we keep it simple by saying reflection as they know what that is.”

Husband: “That’s wrong, though. [Daughter] understands the difference and if you took the time to explain so would the other children.” *turns to Daughter* “Well done for understanding what we taught you and applying your knowledge. *high fives Daughter*

Me: “I think we’re done here.”

Teacher: *as we’re leaving* “She’ll confuse the other children!”

(For as long as I can remember I’ve been a Trekkie. I am in high school when ‘Star Trek: The Next Generation’ is in its final season. The day after the final episode, I’m approached by the school bully. I brace myself for his usual barrage of insults.)

Bully: “Hey, it’s the big fat Trekkie. Let me guess, you watched the final episode last night.”

Me: “Of course I did.”

Bully: “And because you’re such a HUGE Trekkie, I’m guessing you taped it so you can watch it over and over again.”

Me: “Yeah. So?”

(He looks around to make sure none of his clique are within earshot, and then leans in close.)

Bully: “Dude. I missed it. Can I borrow it?”

Me: “What?”

Bully: “Yeah, man. I love that show but I was doing other stuff last night. So, please, help a Trekkie out. Can I borrow it?”

Me: “After everything you’ve done to me? No way!”

(Sadness washes over his face as regains his bully composure.)

Bully: “Whatever, man. Star Trek’s stupid anyway.”

(I swear I heard him sniffle a little bit as he walked away.)

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