I am working with a student after school for an extra math session.

Me: “Okay, so then we half the forty, which is…”

Student: “Zero!”

I thought I had misheard him, so I asked him to repeat it.

Student: “Half of forty is zero, right?”

I corrected him and moved on.

Later, in the teachers’ lounge, another math teacher told me:

Teacher: “I know exactly what he did. He split the number in half vertically. Half of forty is four, and the other half is zero.”

Me: “Okay, I know we’re not supposed to say this, but that is beyond stupid. It’s so incredibly stupid I would never have ever, ever, thought that THAT is what he was doing.”

Teacher: “How long have you been teaching?”

Me: “A year.”

Teacher: “That’s why. Give it time. Some of these kids, God bless ’em, but if brains were dynamite, they couldn’t even blow their nose. The dumb… it creeps up on you…”

I try to stay a little more optimistic than some of my more seasoned coworkers, but d***, it does get harder every year!

I’m applying to the University of Amsterdam, in the early days when the EU was very much a thing, but most students still went through Erasmus. The rules were clear, however: Any high school diploma allowing entry to university in your own country should be good in another EU country, too.

Me: “…and here’s my high school certificate.”

Registrar: “I cannot read it. Why is it not in Dutch?”

Me: “Because I finished high school in Finland. You’ll find the authorized and apostilled translation right next to it.”

Registrar: “But that’s not the original. I need the original.”

Me: “The original is in your hand. The other is the legal, authorized translation.”

Registrar: “But I cannot read it.”

Me: “No, you wouldn’t, because it is in Finnish.”

Registrar: “Why is it not in Dutch?”

Me: “Why would it be? I’m a Finn, and that’s a Finnish high school certificate.”

Registrar: “But I cannot read it!”

Me: “I figured as much, which is why you have that authorized, legal translation.”

Registrar: “But it’s not the original!”

Me: “I KNOW! FINNISH HIGH SCHOOLS DO NOT ISSUE CERTIFICATES IN DUTCH!”

Registrar: “Why not?”

…and on and on it went, until someone else returned from their lunch.

Other Registrar: “Oh, a foreign diploma. And a translation. Thank you, I’ll process this for you, you should have the papers in the mail in a few days.”

Me: “Thank you very much!”

Registrar: “But I cannot read it!”

A classmate has a very distinctive look, and I think it’s really cool. I’m a little intimidated by her (and her permanent scowl and combat boots), but eventually I gather the courage to tell her that I find one of her outfits amazing. We’re walking to class one day.

Me: “Hey, [Classmate]! I love your skirt! Your Bohemian style is really cool.”

She stops in her tracks.

Classmate: “THANK YOU!”

Me: “Yeah, it really looks nice!”

Classmate: “NO! Well, I mean, yes, thank you, but – thank you for calling it what it is! It’s Bohemian!”

Me: “…does no one else call it that?”

Classmate: “Everyone else calls it ‘wannabe steampunk’ or ‘cottagecore goth’. It’s not! It’s Bohemian!”

Me: “I’m surprised people call it other things… but it’s clearly your style, and it works and looks great on you.”

She smiled the entire class, and I felt good that I made someone happy that day.

The teacher is going over a map of the United States. This is not a geography lesson, and we’re all high school-aged, so we know all the states. The map is just required for the discussion we’re having.

Teacher: “So then Alaska has the Aleutian islands, that—”

Student #1: “—That’s not real.”

Teacher: “What’s not real?”

Student #1: “Alaska. It’s fake. Nobody actually knows anyone from there. It’s just something the government made up.”

The room bursts into laughter. [Student #1] was speaking seriously, but the class’s reaction is making them seem less confident.

Student #2: “So who’s been sending all the fish and oil then, Bigfoot?”

Student #3: “Where do all the reality shows about Alaskan crab fishing get filmed?”

Student #2: “And Ice Road Truckers! Who are they?!”

Student #3: *In a mocking tone.* “Actors! It’s staged! I’ve never met an Alaskan, have you?”

The teacher pinches the bridge of their nose, trying not to laugh, and gets things back on track.

A few months later, we had a new student join us who just moved from Anchorage, and the jokes started up all over again…

Years ago, I was sitting in a university lecture. It was towards the start of the academic year, and the particular subject was animal ethics and welfare. We were being introduced to a lecture about how welfare has changed over the year when a girl walked into the hall, apologised for being late, and found a seat.

I don’t recognise her, but don’t question it. Maybe she was a late starter. The lesson continued for about half an hour, and the tutor stopped because someone had their hand raised. It was the girl from before. The latecomer.

Tutor: “Yes? Do you have a question?”

Girl: “No, I’m actually in the wrong class. I’m looking for [completely different course altogether]. I’d best go and find my class, but this was so interesting; I wish I could stay!”

She left, albeit reluctantly, and the tutor was pleased that he had taught something so worth sticking around for!