CONTENT WARNING: Gross (Roaches)

When my brother was younger, he used to get strange rashes during the school year. My mom didn’t think anything of it at first, just getting salves and ointments at the drug store to treat the rashes. One day, when he was in second grade, my mom went to drop him off at his classroom only to see another little boy putting what looked like tiny brown things into a box. When the little boy went to scoot past my mom, she stopped him.

Mom: “What do you have there?”

Boy: “I’m taking out the bugs!”

Mom: “The bugs? Can I see them?”

The boy showed my mother the inside of the box, which turned out to be almost half-full of cockroaches.

Mom: “Can I have that, honey? I’ll take the bugs out for you.”

Boy: “Okay!”

The boy handed my mother the box of cockroaches, and she watched my brother add his jacket and lunch box to the growing pile caused by kids not putting their things in their cubby holes. She moved to the teacher’s desk and found that the class had a substitute she was on friendly terms with.

Mom: “I’m sorry, are these what I think they are?”

She showed the substitute, who looked into the box and nodded.

Substitute: “Yep, those are roaches. You want me to call the office right now?”

Mom: “No, I’ll show them myself.”

My mother then marched herself to the main office. The secretaries immediately asked her what was in the box only to be startled and jump away from her when she showed them the roaches. Unfortunately, the principal wasn’t in, and the vice principal was doing her rounds, but my mother said it was fine and patiently waited in a chair with a box of roaches on her lap.

The second the vice principal walked in, one of the secretaries literally jumped up to attention and announced that my mother was there to see her. The vice principal invited my mother into her office.

Vice Principal: “What did you want to speak with me about, Mrs. [Mom’s Last Name]?”

Mom set the box of cockroaches on the desk.

Mom: “Were you aware of the cockroach issues in the second-grade classrooms?

The vice principal looked into the box, and her face went pale.

Vice Principal: “Oh, my God!”

She immediately grabbed the phone and called the head custodian, who came to the office.

Vice Principal: “Were you aware we had a roach problem in the classrooms?”

Head Custodian: “Yes, ma’am, I was.”

Vice Principal: “And did you make a report of this? Is [Principal] aware of this?”

Head Custodian: “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

Vice Principal: “What’s being done about this?”

Head Custodian: *Shrugs*

The vice principal and my mother were both furious. While the vice principal tried to get a hold of exterminators, she also gave my mom the phone numbers for some people higher up in the school district so she could make more formal complaints about the school not handling the situation properly. They ended up having to fumigate the school during a school break due to the chemicals involved being harmful.

The rashes my brother was getting? Turns out he’s allergic to cockroaches.

When I was teaching third grade, I had a student who struggled with reading. This was back in the olden days, when it was unusual for an eight-year-old to be functionally illiterate. She was particularly quiet and hesitant in class, and when I talked to her, I realized why: previous teachers had somehow convinced her she wasn’t very bright. I could see how [Student] had flown under the radar; she was, after all, a very quiet and well-behaved child, and I’m sure her previous teachers had matters and students and behaviors that seemed more pressing. But I liked to check in with my students individually when able to, and after one conversation with [Student], I could tell that she was incredibly intelligent. The way she thought things over and the way she was able to make many logical connections in her head was like some of my more typically intelligent students.

One day, during a semi-private conversation, [Student] opened up to me in frustration. The way she ranted to me all made sense, but something about the way she spoke about reading seemed off.

Me: “[Student], have you ever had your eyes checked?”

Student: “No, I haven’t.”

I’m sure she must have done it in kindergarten, but the state I was teaching in at the time only mandated eye tests in kindergarten, and I’d heard of children falling through the cracks. I encouraged her to ask her parents about getting her vision checked. From the sound of it, they were a bit reluctant, but to their credit, they followed through.

The next week, [Student] burst into class with a huge grin on her face.

Student: “During the eye test, I could see clearly for the first time!”

It turned out that I was correct. [Student] had horrible vision. Apparently, her vision was so poor that the new glasses she got the following week were only half of the prescription needed to fully correct her vision, and she would get the full prescription in a few months, so as not to overwhelm her brain with the sudden clarity!

Within days of getting her first pair of glasses, [Student] was practically a different child. She was more outgoing and confident, engaging with her classmates, raising her hand to answer questions, and even laughing more.

I have never forgotten this incident, but I thought to share it here after getting an email from [Student] a few days ago with a PDF attached. It was a scientific paper she had written in grad school, which was in very technical jargon that I couldn’t understand, but she also thanked me for seeing the intelligence in her when everyone else had dismissed her.

I’m a jumps coach for a high school track and field team. We’re at a long, all-day invitational meet. During the lunch break, the athletes and coaches play “I’ve Never” to pass the time, i.e., each person takes a turn making a statement like, “I’ve never been on an airplane,” and everyone who has done it is out — school-appropriate statements in this instance.

The throws coach is a very large man and also a Pacific Islander. One of the athletes thinks he has the perfect way to get him out.

Athlete: “I’ve never been Samoan!”

Throws Coach: “Ha! I’m not Samoan; I’m Filipino! I’m just fat!”

He ended up winning the round.

I was in a college marching band, and we did plenty of cheering at sports games.

One day, something very good for our team happened in a game — this was more than twenty-five years ago, so I don’t even remember what sport was being played — and one of our more enthusiastic band members turned around to face the crowd, which was already cheering wildly about the fantastic play. He caught them at the exact right moment, and his voice carried well. Our team was called the Tigers.

Band Member: “GIVE ME A T!”

Hundreds Of People: “T!”

Band Member: “GIVE ME AN I!”

Hundreds Of People: “I!”

Band Member: “GIVE ME AN R!”

Hundreds Of People: “…”

Band Member: “…”

Hundreds Of People: “…”

Band Member: “S***!”

He sat down, and then he stood up and shouted at the crowd one more time while they were chuckling.

Band Member: “I MEANT WELL!”

I’m the oldest of four children, and we all have VERY different personalities and interests.

[Brother] is two years younger than I am and is entering high school for the first time. He signs up for the cross-country team, and the coach starts some get-to-know-you activities, asking everyone to share their name and whether they have any siblings in [High School].

Brother: “I’m [Brother], and I have an older sister named [My Name].”

Teammate #1: “Wait, [My Name]? Short, brown hair, glasses, always has a book?”

Brother: “Yeah, that’s her.”

All the teammates stare at my tall, athletic, sandy-blond brother, who has already shown a disdain for everything academic.

Teammate #2: “…And you’re doing this?“

Not only were his teammates shocked that we were related, but apparently, several of his friends didn’t believe him until I attended his high school graduation four years later!