(I am an assistant junior preschool teacher. Our class consists of kids age eighteen months to three years. This happens while reviewing animals with a pair of twins in the class.)

Me: “[Twin Sister], what animal says, ‘moo’?”

Twin Sister: “Cow!”

Twin Brother: “Vodka!”

(The lead teacher and I go dead face, wondering where on earth a near two-year-old could hear the word “vodka” and say it with such clarity.)

Me: “Did he just say, ‘vodka’?”

Lead Teacher: “I think so. [Twin Brother], what animal says, ‘moo’?”

Twin Brother: “Vodka!” 

(He is clearly proud of himself because he thinks he said the right word. By the end of the day, my coworker leaves instructing me to tell the twin’s mother what her son said and ask if she knows why.)

Me: “So, [Twin Brother] said something today and we really don’t know where he heard it.”

Twin’s Mother: *shocked* “Oh, really? What was it?”

Me: “Well, we asked what animal says, ‘moo,’ and [Twin Sister] said, ‘cow,’ but [Twin Brother] said, ‘vodka.’”

Twin’s Mother: *sighing with relief* “Oh! He’s saying, ‘vaca.’ It’s Spanish for ‘cow.’ I’ve taught them a couple of words and numbers in Spanish.”

I’m a preschool teacher working at a screening. This means we are testing preschool-age children to see if they qualify for our public preschool program.

Part of the testing asks the children to stand on one leg. I’m working with a little girl and tell her, “Now, stand on one foot, please,” while also demonstrating for her.

She gives me a confused face. Then, she slowly walks toward me and stands on my foot. I guess I needed to be more specific about which foot to stand on!

(I work with three-year-olds in a preschool. One of my kids walks up to me, pouting.)

Student: *as sadly and pathetically as he can muster* “Miss [My Name], I need medicine.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, bud! Why do you think you need medicine?”

Student: “I have the hiccups.”

Me: “Well, there’s not really medicine for hiccups. You have to hold your breath, or drink some water, or… get scared like this! Boo!”

(I grab him and tickle him a little, and he runs away, screaming and laughing. A little later…)

Student: “Miss [My Name]! Scare me again!”

Me: “I can only scare you if you have hiccups! Can you hiccup?”

(The student stared at me, tried to force a hiccup, and burped, instead.)

Preschooler: “Ms. [My Name]! I made a painting of you!”

Me: “Oh, how sweet! What am I doing?”

Preschooler: “Swimming in the ocean.”

Me: “Oh, that sounds nice. I love swimming in the ocean.”

Preschooler: “Yeah, but there are sharks there, too.”

(Well, all right, then. The life of a preschool teacher is never boring!)

I’ve always been a bit advanced for my age. When I was four years old, my first preschool shut down halfway through the year, and the only other preschool at the time was at a local elementary school, so grandmother enrolled me there.

At the time, I could count up to 39 but was having trouble grasping 40, and when my grandmother told this to the staff, their response signaled to my grandmother that I would be going to a different school for kindergarten onward.

“Oh, we only care if she can count to ten!”