The Love Of Teaching Runs Deep

, , , | Learning | September 5, 2020

I’m a teacher. One of my students has recently started a part-time job and is celebrating their first payday.

Me: “Congratulations! Even after years of having them, I still find payday exciting. “

Student: “Wait, they pay you?”

Me: “Um… yes. I mean, I do love the job, but I don’t do it for free. Why did you think I’m here?”

Student: “I don’t know. I thought this was like a hobby or something.”

Every single student around him dissolved into laughter.

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We Had Finally Gotten That Song Out Of Ours Heads. Thanks.

, , , , , | Learning | September 3, 2020

It was the far back yesteryear of 2009 and Lonely Island had recently released their smash hit I’m On A Boat. For those unfamiliar with the song, the innocent title does nothing to convey that the lyrics are absolutely riddled with F-bombs.

Apparently, this fact also completely escaped the organizers of my senior prom, as when the song was inevitably requested — because what teen can resist randomness, T-Pain, and swear words? — the uncensored version started blaring through the speakers.

Supervisors rushed to the DJ booth and scrambled to switch over to the version that’s as much bleeps as English, but it was too late. The damage had been done, as 500 teenagers belted out “F***”s at the top of their lungs and nothing was going to stop them until the song had been sung.

Not sure what fallout there was for whoever approved the song list, but requests were pre-screened for the rest of the night instead of playing nearly immediately.

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Class Clown On His Way To Steal Your Girl

, , , , , , , , | Learning | August 15, 2020

I take driver’s ed at a local high school with other teenagers. One is committed to being the class clown, and we all think he is doing pretty well at it. For example, after our teacher stresses that a green traffic light means go WHEN CLEAR, he asks what red means. The class clown calls out, “Stop when clear!”

One day, the classroom phone rings. The class clown is sitting closest and offers to answer it. The teacher obliges.

Class Clown: “Hello, [Teacher]’s room; this is [Class Clown]… Yes, that’s me. Oh, [Teacher] has mentioned me?”

Teacher: “Who is it?”

Class Clown: “Your wife.”

He continues the conversation with the teacher’s wife. The teacher walks over to the phone.

Teacher: “Here, let me have the phone.”

Class Clown: “She said she wants to talk to me.”

The teacher rolls his eyes and grabs the phone.

Teacher: “Right. Hi, honey, I— What? Um, okay.”

He then hands the phone back to the class clown.

Teacher: “She wanted to let me know what she was making for dinner tonight… and now she wants to talk to you again.”

The class clown and the teacher’s wife ended up talking another five or ten minutes. From the side of the conversation we could hear, it sounded like a pleasant one!

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Teachers Aren’t The Only Ones Teaching Lessons

, , , , , , , , | Learning | August 5, 2020

I was in an advanced class in high school; we were supposed to be the “smart” guys.

The new teacher had the habit of stomping into the classroom for every lesson. He would noisily stomp onto the short podium and forcefully throw his books on the teacher’s desk. I assume he did that to assure he got our attention.

The class quickly became fed up with the teacher’s repeated displays. Some of the students moved the teacher’s desk so the front legs were just barely on the front portion of the podium.

When the teacher next arrived, he did his usual attention-getter, making plenty of noise and throwing his books on the desk. The front of the desk fell off the podium, and the angle caused his books to slide off to the floor. None of the students laughed. All stared at the teacher.

The expression on the teacher’s face was priceless. He looked at the staring faces and shouted, “Who did that?”

There was no answer, just more stares. He then raised the desk back to its proper position and went on with the lesson. He never tried the stomping and throwing again.

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Unreasonable Teachers Make Us Sick

, , , , , | Learning | August 1, 2020

I’m a high school senior at the time of this story. I’m in my school’s audition-only choir. One morning, I wake up with body aches, a cough, and fever of 104°. The problem with this is that we have our winter concert that evening, and our director is strict about missing performances. You have to bring in a doctor’s note if you miss one; otherwise, he docks your grade.

I set up an appointment with my doctor for later in the morning, call in to school sick, and leave a message on my director’s line. I tell him that I am sick, I’ll be going to the doctor in a couple of hours, and someone in my family will drop a doctor’s note off in the main office since I’m in no shape to come to school or sing that night. Please note that I’ve never missed a performance.

I crawl back into bed until my appointment. I wake up to a voicemail from my director.

Director: “[My Name], this is Mr. [Director]. Tonight is the winter concert, and it’s fifty percent of your semester grade. If you are actually sick, I want that doctor’s note today, hand-delivered by you. Otherwise, you fail for the semester.”

Again, I’ve never missed a performance, and I have been a student leader in my class for a couple of years, so I’m unsure why he’s doubting me. I decide that if he wants a note personally delivered, he’s going to get it.

I go to the doctor, where he diagnoses the flu and writes a note excusing me from “all school events” for the next week. My school is just a few minutes down the road. My timing is perfect; my normal class has just started when I shuffle in. I look just like you’d expect someone with a 104° fever to look.

My classmates stare at me, and our director stops conducting mid-song.

Director: “Uh… [My Name]? You look awful.”

I wave the note in the air.

Me: *At full volume* “I have the flu! Here is your stupid doctor’s note!”

This triggers a coughing spasm. I attempt to hand the note to him while covering my mouth with my other hand. He steps back.

Director: “Ah… no need. I believe you. Your parents could’ve dropped it in the office.”

Me:No! You said in your voicemail that I had to hand-deliver the note today, or else I fail for the semester. You are going to take this note!”

Director: “I didn’t mean—”

Me: “That’s what you said to do, and you know I always do what I’m told. Take it.”

He groans, takes the note, drops it on his stand, and immediately heads for the hand sanitizer. I hear a few of my classmates laugh.

Me: “And I’m excused from tonight? I won’t fail?”

Director: “Correct. You won’t fail and you are excused. Now, please go home before you infect the whole class!”

Me: “Gladly!”

My friends waved at me as I shuffled back out. I did not fail, but he didn’t talk to me much for the rest of the year.

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