(In our mathematics class, we’ve recently learned to solve equations and are having a test on them.)

Teacher: “A farmer has sheep and chickens. Someone asks him how many of each he has, but he just replies that all his animals together have 30 heads and 100 legs. How many sheep and how many chickens does he have?”

(We begin solving the problem, which is supposed to last the rest of that period, and whoever finishes can leave the classroom. I am one of the first to finish and another classmate comes out soon afterwards.)

Classmate: “I was afraid I couldn’t do it but I did! 42 chickens!”

Me: “With 30 heads? Why, did he behead some of them?”

(My classmate slapped her forehead and left to find her friends.)

(I study English at a German university. Classes are held completely in English. Sometimes the professors treat us like idiots, even though most of us have been learning English since the fifth grade)

Professor: “Now there are some words in this poem I’m sure most of you don’t know. Has anyone looked up what a ‘scythe’ is?”

Me: “It’s a [German word].”

Professor: “Very good! And what is plowing?”

Me: “It’s [German word].”

(I continue to answer his next five questions about translating words.)

Professor: “Well, I see at least one has prepared for this lesson. Did you look the words up online or in an old-fashioned dictionary?”

Me: “Neither? I mean, I knew what the words meant.”

Professor: “What do you mean you knew? Where did you look it up?”

Me: “I didn’t look it up. I knew the words because I’ve probably heard them before in the past years or had them explained to me. I don’t remember for every single word.”

Professor: “You’re supposed to look up difficult words you don’t know! Did you even prepare for class?”

Me: “”I knew the words! I didn’t have to look them up!

Professor: “You probably didn’t even get most of this poem if you didn’t look up the words!”

Me: “I just told you what all of them mean. How could I not understand the poem if I knew every word?”

Professor: “You’re supposed to look up difficult words!”

(I gave up. From then on when he asked where I knew a word from I simply told him I looked it up online. He never complained again.)

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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