This is a “smart” student story. About 30 years ago, when I was just starting out as a teacher and having to be a substitute, I was called into this high school. No big deal. One day turned into two, then three and more. Then, I was told that the teacher I was subbing for would likely be out for the rest of the year, and they asked if I’d be interested in applying for the position. I had a quick interview with the principal and two members of the department after school and I was in. Yay!

I started about the beginning of October. There were six classes, three different courses, one of which was brand new, so there were no materials yet. But I was young and full of energy. After a few weeks, my department head had a talk with me about the approaching first-term report cards. Note: at this time, teachers filled out reports on those three-copy NCR forms. The student’s info was printed on top, but we had to hand-write the grade, add any comments in the space provided, and then sign it. My department head said that, as I would be merging my marks with the ones already recorded by the teacher I was replacing, and that I hadn’t really gotten a chance to know the students, to just record the grade, leave the comments section blank, and sign them. I did just that.

Sometime the morning after the reports went home, I got a message to call the mother of one of my students. On my first break, I called and identified myself. She said she had a question about her son’s report card. I was thinking the worst, that this was a parent going to beg, plead, or bully her kid into a higher grade. Nope. She was concerned about the comment. I told her that, due to the circumstances, I had made no comments on any of the report cards. She started howling with laughter, then read me the comment on her son’s card. It was over the top: best student ever, great class participation, and so on.

The reason she’d called was that all the comments from his other teachers were pretty much what she expected — work not done, more effort required, etc. — and she was curious about the one rave review. We had a good laugh about how if her son had just toned it down a bit she wouldn’t have noticed. She said she’d talk to the boy, and I took no further action than, when I asked that kid’s class if their parents had any questions about their report cards, to focus on this boy with my best imitation of laser eyes. His response told me Mum had talked to him.

I hope he learned something. I learned to never sign a document while leaving a space blank — put a slash through it.

A few years ago, I took my turn one week as the “mystery reader” for my daughter’s first-grade class. After reading to the children, I gave them two boxes of Girl Scout cookies to share.

One boy’s bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes welled with tears. He asked in a small voice:

“Can boys have Girl Scout cookies?”

This story is part of our Girl Scouts roundup!

Read the next Girl Scouts roundup story!

Read the Girl Scouts roundup!

(I am in a freshman-level French language class. The professor is a native of France, and is correcting the pronunciation of a friend of mine, who is a bit of a class clown.)

Professor: “No, no, no! You are speaking French with an Oklahoma accent!”

Student: “Well, why not? You’re speaking ‘Oklahoman’ with a French accent!”

(This takes place in my sociology class which has a variety of people, some of whom are very open-minded and some of whom… aren’t. Our current unit is on sex — biological, not the act — and gender.)

Teacher: “Is sex a binary?”

Me: “It’s not quite binary, but mostly.”

Teacher: “And why is that?”

Female Student: “Because of intersex people.”

Teacher: “Exactly.”

(The teacher goes on to talk about the biological characteristics and some of the issues around intersex people, primarily the fact that parents have to choose which sex to raise their child as.)

Male Student: “Okay, but something like .0001 percent of people not fitting in that binary doesn’t get rid of the binary.”

(I can’t help but wonder how he’s going to react when we talk about the gender spectrum tomorrow.)

(All the students in the school have had to eat in the gymnasium or in classrooms for the past few weeks because the cafeteria is undergoing renovations. Earlier that day, there was a walkout in memory of a school shooting, which was fairly uneventful. Now, nearly the entire student body is in the gym for lunch. Most are sitting on the bleachers, but I’m on the opposite side of the gym and can see everyone. Suddenly, there is a loud bang from somewhere in the gym. I have a great view of the bleachers, and I see every single student flinch or jump in perfect unison, thinking it was a gunshot. Everything is quiet for a few seconds. Then, the principal storms in, extremely angry.)

Principal: “WHO DID THAT?!”

(He was under the impression that someone, trying to be funny, had popped a chip bag. He spent ten minutes loudly interrogating students. After the incident, I heard that the sound was the tire of someone’s wheelchair blowing out.)