(I am the teacher. I walk into the hallway to see a student taking a photo of herself with her cell phone.)
Me: “Selfie generation.”
Student: “It’s not a selfie; it’s SnapChat.”
Me: “What is the definition of selfie?”
Student: “I don’t know.”
Me: “A photo taken of oneself.”
Student: “Oh… I guess it’s a selfie, then.”
(In our religion classes sometimes our teacher and our class have a discussion about things that bother us. This week the topic is embarrassing parents.)
Teacher: “Okay, class, who here has embarrassing parents?”
Me: “My dad sings Beyoncé and did The Time Warp at the food court in a shopping centre, in public.”
Teacher: “Well, [My Name], my dad loves to watch Miley Cyrus and sings Wrecking Ball all over the house. Which one would you rather?”
Me: *not missing a beat, staring her right in the eyes* “My dad dances in public.”
Teacher: “Good point.”
(At our boarding school there are two teachers who are sisters and used to be students here. They are both sweeping snow that people have trekked into the hall.)
Teacher #1: “Snow used to be a lot more fun when we were kids.”
Teacher #2: “Because we didn’t have to tidy it up?”
Teacher #1: “Yeah, that… and do you remember that time someone threw snowballs in the corridor?”
Teacher #2: “That was hilarious. Who did that?”
Teacher #1: “Same person who built a huge snowman and left it right outside the front doors.”
Teacher #2: “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Maybe it WAS me.” *notices us listening in* “…that was very naughty.”
(I miss or am late to school a lot during my senior year of high school due to being snowed in or just out too late the previous night. My mom always likes to make up fun excused absences every once in a while for the office ladies. Keep in mind, I don’t normally read what they say. This particular case is right after the first week of hunting season.)
Secretary: “What’s your excuse this time, [My Name]?”
Me: “It’s too traumatizing to talk about so soon to the incident.”
Secretary: *sigh* “Fine, just give me your excuse and wait here.”
(At this point she goes back to the dean’s office and I hear hushed talking before I’m called into the back office.)
Dean: “Are you okay? Are you sure you don’t need some more time off?”
Me: “…Yes, I’m fine. Just trying to get to homeroom.”
Dean: “I think you should go ahead and take a couple more days off just to come with terms of what’s happened.”
Me: “Okay then, I guess.”
(It turned out my mother had written a fairly lengthy detail of how I had saved my neighbor’s life by fighting off a deranged male deer. The neighbor was said to be in intensive care and my mother felt I wasn’t ready to return because I had PTSD. Apparently I had to go all Rambo on the animal to stop its murderous rampage. My mother had been reading the news and pulled this story off some tabloid and decided to use it as my excuse. I never did find out why they bought into it when the normal stories had something to do with aliens or being stranded in the woods to fend for myself. Either way I got a free week off school and the Dean always treated me like a hero afterward.)
(My daughter is participating in a talent show at her local school. For a couple of months, everything appears normal, with the occasional rehearsal running until six or seven pm. During the final days before the show, the teacher tries to run the dress rehearsals until ten pm on school nights, when the students have to be in school by seven am. Upon telling my daughter she cannot stay, I drive to the school to pick her up. I find her and the teacher in charge standing outside.)
Teacher: “Sir, I want to thank you very much for letting your daughter participate. She has proven invaluable to the show.”
Me: “That’s fine, but she still cannot stay any later. She needs to come home, eat dinner, finish her homework, and get sleep before school.”
Teacher: *with authority* “I understand that, but when you signed the permission slip you agreed to let her stay for however long we required.”
Me: “If we signed anything, we were unaware of any fine print. We never would have agreed to this if we’d known you were keeping the children this late on a school night. Could you please explain why their school day ends at two pm and you need to keep them eight hours for a rehearsal?”
Teacher: *with arrogance* “Well, sir, that’s the way the theater happens sometimes. Dress rehearsals often run over and we can’t take into account every delay.”
(I know the teacher was once a musician, and his attitude reflects his perceived “expertise.” What he doesn’t know is my own work experience.)
Me: “Excuse me. I worked a decade in this industry as a technician. I know full well how long rehearsals are supposed to take and all the pitfalls and delays. There is no reason a dress rehearsal, two days before the show opens, is supposed to take four times the show’s estimated run time. By this point, you should have full runs moving in two to three hours maximum; even if you took an hour break after the end of school to start, you should be done by six pm.”
Teacher: *suddenly quieter* “Yes… well… we’d still like your daughter to stay. If you agree.”
This story is part of the singing silliness roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!
17 Musical Stories That Will Send You Into Beatlemania
Read the first singing silliness roundup story!
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