(We’re learning about the Civil War.)
Student: “So, how did the two sides always end up at the same place? Did they, like, call each other on the phone and say, ‘Hey, you want to fight at Gettysburg tomorrow?'”
(Pretty sure that second part was facetious. It was a valid question!)
(I am a fourth-grade teacher.)
Student: “Mr. [My Name], do you like oysters?”
Me: “Yes.”
Student: “Great! I’ll bring you some.”
Me: *wondering how he intends to do that, since we live in Missouri* “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
Student: “It’s no problem. I’ll bring ’em as soon as my dad’s done castrating the bulls.”
Me: “You really don’t have to do that.”
(One of my students is autistic. His mother puts him in swimming lessons because of his bad motor skills. He fits nicely into the group of children who are neurotypical. They all accept that he always goes last and always triple-asks what the assignment is. He doesn’t get jokes or wordplays, and we need to explain things in a scientific way, such as mentioning the angle that’s best to hold his limbs — numbers included! Today, at the end of the class:)
Student: “My heart is racing!”
(“Heart” in Dutch is “Hart.” It sounds the same as the English word.)
Me: “That’s because you swam so hard today.”
(“Hard” in Dutch is “Hard,” sounding the same as the Dutch word for “Heart.”)
Student: “Yes, I… Heart! Hard! I get it! I get it!” *runs to another teacher* “Teacher, teacher! My heart is racing… because I swam so hard!”
(He then proceeded to go to each and every teacher to tell his wordplay joke. We collectively thought it was utterly adorable.)
(My film studies class has been watching “Planet of the Apes.” The second day of the film, the teacher takes a few minutes to ask if anyone has questions about the movie or the notes we’ve been taking. One student voices a complaint:)
Student: “How come they ended up in a field? Weren’t they on a desert planet?”
Teacher: “Well, they thought they were on a desert planet, because they didn’t see any plant life, but they just happened to land in a desert.”
Student: “But that doesn’t make sense! Either they’re on a desert planet or on a living planet; you can’t have both!”
(By now, several other students are snickering.)
Teacher: “Well, what type of planet is Earth? Earth has deserts and fields, and polar regions–“
Student: “Earth is an Earth planet!”
(The entire classroom bursts out laughing. The teacher sighs, turns around, and pretends to write on the whiteboard.)
Teacher: “Today on Things Said in [Teacher]’s Class: ‘Earth is an Earth Planet.'”
In middle school, my class takes a field trip to a major government library to research a history project. It’s worth mentioning that at the time, I am a bit of a punk-y tomboy. They have some very sensitive and valuable documents inside, so everyone is required to go through a metal detector before they can enter.
Most of the class goes through with only minor hiccups, like forgotten change or house keys. Then I go through. The detector beeps, and I’m confused because I only have a cheap necklace on that I was sure wouldn’t set it off, but I remove it anyway and try again. Again, the machine beeps.
This prompts me to have to go through every pocket I have — quite a few as I like wearing cargo pants — and after a few more failures I even leave my emptied coat with the guard. Still no luck. Finally, they break out a wand to try to pinpoint the issue. The wand is silent until they get to my shoes, where it starts beeping madly, and I realize with horror that I completely forgot that the boots I’m wearing are steel-toed. The guards immediately break out laughing, as no one even considered the idea that petite, blond, thirteen-year-old me would be wearing men’s work boots.
I wasted about fifteen minutes of everyone’s time in the end, and my classmates teased me for weeks about being a shoe-bomber. At least they didn’t take my boots from me!
