(I’m taking a class on the history of animation. One of our assignments is to go to the library where there is a video reserved for the class to watch in our off time, featuring various old theatrical cartoons that were banned from television for various reasons, mostly due to being politically incorrect. After this, we have to write a paper on it. On the day that the assignment is due, we end up having an in-class discussion on the cartoons that we saw. One cartoon, in particular, looks like it came out either in the late 1920s or early 30s, and everyone keeps talking about the beginning that had a rather blatant Jewish stereotype.)

Me: “Wait a minute. So, we’re discussing a cartoon that ended with piles of dead bodies, many of which were dismembered, and there was even an on-screen decapitation, but the part everyone here is hung up on is the Jewish stereotype that was on screen for about three seconds?”

(I’m teaching swimming classes, and one of my former students asks if she can interview me for school. She is ten years old, she has to write an essay for schools, and she has picked diving as a subject. I used to be a diver, and she wants to include an interview with “someone who was a diver.” I agree to meet with her for the interview after my classes have ended. I come out to meet the student and encounter her mother.)

Me: “All right, are you ready?”

Mother: “Oh, no, no, she went to the next group, so she has class now.”

Me: “Oh… Well, I can wait for her to finish.”

Mother: “There is no need to; I have the questions here, so we can work ahead.”

Me: “Eh… Sure… I guess… Wow, she has very neat handwriting!”

Mother: “Oh, she didn’t write the questions down; I did.”

(I feel a bit uneasy, because I promised to do the interview with the girl, and now her mother is doing the interview. But, if that helps the girl to get a good grade… there’s no harm in this, right?)

Mother: “Thank you so much for your time! I can’t wait to start working this out.”

Me: “Oh, [Girl] can’t wait to get started on this presentation?”

Mother: “No, no, she has better things to do.”

(That creeping feeling is back again.)

Me: “You really like helping her, don’t you?”

Mother: “Of course; that’s what mothers are for!”

Me: “But shouldn’t she be doing this herself, then?”

Mother: “Don’t worry; there’s plenty of time for her to do things on her own. You know how kids are. One day they just don’t want to listen to their mothers anymore and then they just fly out. Besides, I’m having way too much fun! When I was small, we didn’t have such things as Powerpoints… or even videos! And their homework sheets are just so much fun to do! I always wonder what she’ll come home with.”

(The mother laughs as I realize she is not only making this presentation for her daughter, she is also doing her homework! The girl is by no means a spoiled brat, but things suddenly click about passive behavior and always giving up if something doesn’t work out the first try. Then, the lesson ends.)

Girl: “Mom, did you do the interview?” *her mother nods* “Oh, and you packed the wrong shirt for this class; this shirt is too heavy to swim with. I told you that last time.”

Mother: “Oh, I am so sorry! I won’t pack that shirt again.”

Me: “You know, why don’t you pack your bags yourself? Then you can be sure you have the right stuff!”

(The girl just stares at me as if I’ve told her I teach dinosaurs how to swim. The mother laughs.)

Mother: “Oh, dear, she’s much too young for that! “

(I know my mother was strict with ordering me to pack my own bags at age four — checking it afterward — and teaching me about consequences if I forgot something, but this was the other side of the spectrum. This girl will have to go to high school in two years and then face the harsh reality where she has to do her own homework and her own reports and pack her own bag — things her mother has sheltered her from. If nothing changes, I’ve witnessed the birth of a special snowflake, caused by mother’s love.)

(In our high school, we have this one teacher that absolutely HATES phones. Doesn’t matter if it is a flip phone, a smart phone, a hand phone, or even one of those red old-school phones with the dial; if she sees anyone with their phone out, she will confiscate the phones and have them returned by the end of the day, and that’s after threatening to call parents and giving the offending student a half-hour talk after school. Even students who don’t have her and are just passing through the hallway in front of her door could have their phones taken. She is a bit… unstable… and if you’re wondering why parents and students don’t complain about her, they do, but she’s the only teacher teaching the subject right now, and admittedly, she’s pretty high quality compared to rest of the teachers at our school when she isn’t being super unpredictable, so nobody really takes any action against her. At the beginning of every year, she prints out and forces students to sign a contract stating that they won’t have phones in class or else she will confiscate them. Because the contract is signed by the students, the principal can’t find fault, so this kind of behavior continues for a good amount of time. That is, until one kid joins us midway throughout the school year. He’s not too late to be hindered by the new coursework, but new enough that nobody really knows him. He also has the same teacher as I do for homeroom, which means we are supposed to spend the next four years of our high school together. If I were to describe him, I’d say just picture him as a tall Asian guy with pretty unkempt hair and glasses; he’s pretty quiet, so naturally, not a lot of people expect much from him. This happens on the first day he joins our homeroom, the first time the teacher ever met him.)

Teacher: *slamming contract down in front of [New Student] while he’s scrolling through his phone* “I won’t allow any students of mine to use those worthless pieces of plastic in my class. You’re going to sign this contract. Read over it carefully, and if you break any parts of it, I will deal out punishments labeled on it as I see fit.”

(Everyone in the room is watching them, waiting to see what will happen. [New Student] signs the contract after barely reading it, before going immediately back to his phone. We can see a vein bulging in the teacher’s temple as she forces the contract in front of [New Student]’s phone screen.)

Teacher: *barely managing to keep it together* “Did you not read the contract?”

New Student: *just puts the contract back on the desk* “I did.”

Teacher: *tries to take the phone out of [New Student]’s hand* “Then give me the phone. You signed a contract stating that you wouldn’t use a phone in class, and since you’re using it, I’m going to have to confiscate it; you can have it back at the end of the day.”

New Student: *not even looking up, but wrenches the phone back* “Well, technically, contracts signed by a minor are not legally binding, so… yeah.”

(We could literally hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. The moment the teacher furiously leaves the classroom, we all sort of just crowd around [New Student] and congratulate him for standing up to the teacher that way.)

Student: “Is that true, that contracts signed by minors aren’t legally binding?”

New Student: *still scrolling through his phone* “Yep.”

(The whole class basically starts worshipping him at this point. Fast forward a few minutes: the teacher comes back with the principal and two security guards.)

Teacher: *points at [New Student], who is still scrolling through his phone* “There! That’s the student who disrespected me!”

Principal: “Calm down, [Teacher]. Let me handle this.” *kneels in front of [New Student], who looks up at him* “Hey. You’re the new kid, right?”

New Student: *nods*

Principal: *gestures towards [Teacher]* “Well, I just received a report from your teacher that you were being very disrespectful towards her in class today. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

New Student: *shrugs* “She made me sign a contract stating that I wasn’t to use my phone in her class, but since contracts signed by minors aren’t legally binding, I don’t have the follow said contract.”

Principal: *blinks before standing up* “I see.”

Teacher: “See?! He admits it!”

Principal: *to [Teacher]* “Well, technically, he’s right, so–“

Teacher: *screeching* “WHAT?”

(Cue the unpredictability mentioned earlier. [Teacher] went BALLISTIC, pounding desks with her hands and throwing chairs around. Security quickly restrained her and escorted the students out of there. The principal immediately fired her. She was signed up for anger management classes… for obvious reasons. As for [New Student], he got a detention, since he was technically disrespecting the teacher, but recently, I’ve found out he is going to a law school, so kudos for him.)

(I tutor English as a Second Language students at their homes. I assign homework to students each week. My students are usually quite young, so very often my homework is left undone for various reasons. I’m usually quite understanding if they have a good reason. This particular student has been neglecting most of her work because she was busy playing. I’m talking to her before I leave her house.)

Me: “[Student], can you try to finish some of your homework? It’s quite the waste of your parents’ money right now to just attend an hour of lessons per week without doing the assigned work.”

Student: “But I’m going on holiday next week! I’m going to [Overseas Country]!”

Me: “That sounds fun. But the homework that I’m talking about is the one the one from around three weeks ago.”

Student: *clearly not listening* “Maybe I’ll buy you a gift from [Overseas Country]!”

Me: “How about this? Instead of buying me a present, you bring me the gift of your completed homework!”

Student: “Ha ha, no.” *bounces away*

I work with kindergarten students who have special needs. I have a handful of them that I instruct daily. One little boy, [Student #1], is very self-sufficient — or tries very hard to be, anyway — but still requires my help with schoolwork. He likes to call me “mean” whenever he doesn’t get his way. I take it in stride and tell him that those are not nice words. One day, I end up busy with one of my less-independent students, [Student #2], who needs my attention all day due to a meltdown.

Due to this, [Student #1] has a different helper for a few hours who is “nice” and lets him get away with bad behavior to some extent.

At the end of the day when [Student #2] is picked up by their parents, I am talking to the helper, getting caught up on [Student #1].

[Student #1] looks over at me, smiles his very sweet smile, and says to me, “Can you please go away now?”

I laugh so hard I snort and the helper just stares at him like, “Did he really just say that?” while [Student #1] is just smiling away.