(There is a classmate in my British literature class who hates everyone. Every week, before the professor arrives, he rants about how horrible various ethnic groups (Germans, LGBT, Latin Americans, etc.) are. Normally, we just roll our eyes and ignore him. Today, [Classmate #2], who sits beside him, has evidently had enough.)

Classmate #1: “God, I hate the French. They are the most pompous a**-holes!”

Classmate #2: “Really? Because the most pompous person I’ve ever seen is you!”

Classmate #1: “What? The French are a bunch of cowards! You’re an American! You have to hate the French!”

Classmate #2: “Yeah? Well, you must’ve failed your last history test. As [Professor] told us, the French were pretty bad-a** during World War II.”

Classmate #1: “But—”

(The professor, who none of us notice until he clears his throat, stands in the doorway.)

Professor: “[Classmate #1], there’s also the fact that your professor is, indeed, French. I expect you to write me an essay on the importance of France-US relations, no less than 3,000 words and due in two days. Perhaps [Classmate #2] can help you with that.”

(We have a foreign exchange student from Norway, who is discussing going home for the holidays.)

Foreign Classmate: “Yes. I think I’m going home, if I have the money for it.”

Other Classmate: “What? You can’t do that! You’ll miss Christmas!”

Foreign Classmate: “What?”

Other Classmate: “Yes! You can’t go back to Norway without celebrating Christmas!”

Foreign Classmate: “I will celebrate it. With my family. In Norway.”

Other Classmate: *awed* “You celebrate Christmas in Norway? I thought only the Americans did that!”

(I am in social studies class with a teacher who is adamant about getting us involved in politics.)

Teacher: “Raise your hand if you’re voting in the election tomorrow.”

(A few students raise their hands, but I don’t.)

Teacher: “[My Name]! Why aren’t you voting? You’re old enough. You should go out and vote instead of sitting around on your butt watching TV and playing videogames! What kind of world am I leaving to you people? You can’t even be bothered to vote—”

Me: “I went to an advanced poll a week ago, sir.”

Teacher: “Oh…”

(Our science teacher hasn’t turned up for class. Some people went looking for him but couldn’t find him. The bell goes for the end of class. As everyone gets up to leave our teacher walks in.)

Teacher: “Oh. I got it wrong, didn’t I?”

(I have been reading fluently since the age of four. My regular preschool teacher knows this. One day we have a substitute.)

Substitute: “All right, boys and girls. Now we’re going to draw! Go ahead and draw whatever you want to. I’ll come around and write down on your paper what you drew!”

(The substitute works her way around the room and finally gets to me.)

Substitute: “[My Name], what did you draw?”

Me: “It’s Mommy, and Daddy, and [My Name], and [Dog’s Name], going to dinner at [local restaurant]. Write that, please!”
(The substitute begins to write “My family goes to dinner” on the page.)

Me: “NOOOOOO! I said ‘Mommy, and Daddy, and [My Name], and [Dog’s Name], going to dinner at [local restaurant]’! That says ‘My family goes to dinner’!”

(The substitute stares at me for a second. Then she writes down what I had said, word for word.)

Me: “THANK you.”

(The substitute hurries out of the room but forgets to close the door. Moments later, floating in from the hallway, my whole class can hear her.)

Substitute: “Why didn’t somebody tell me one of them could read?!”