(I am working in a junior high classroom helping a group of students with their English homework. This is not long after Trump takes office and the students are reading a magazine article about Trump’s different stances on the environment, immigration, economy, etc. I am explaining to them about his ideas about the border wall with Mexico.)

Student #1: “But I don’t get it. Isn’t Mexico part of the U.S.?”

Me: *fumbling for a response* “Are you thinking of New Mexico?”

Student #1: “No, Mexico Mexico.”

Me: “…No.”

(The rest of the students are either laughing or gaping at this point.)

Student #2: *pointing* “There’s a map over there. Go look.”

(I lead Student #1 over to the map and show them Mexico and the US.)

Student #1: *wide eyed* “Ooohhh… that makes so much more sense. Like, I couldn’t figure out why all the other states wanted to keep people from one state out.”

(At this point, I’m just nodding and trying not to laugh.)

Student #1: “How did I get to seventh grade without knowing that?”

(I thought it best not to answer.)

(My father has an accident while he is repairing a customer’s roof. He falls off a ladder and lands on his side on concrete, breaking several ribs and vertebrae. My uncle and I are standing at the end of his bed.)

Uncle: “…I’m glad he’s okay, though. He needs to stop doing such s*** as he’s just hit his 60s.”

Me: “He’s stubborn; not much more you can do about it.”

Uncle: “Always was a stubborn a**-hole!”

(With that my father, in his highly morphined state, slowly raises his arm to produce a slowly rising middle finger. I start laughing.)

Uncle: “And that’s how I know he’s still all there.”

(It’s my last day of student teaching with a group of amazing sixth graders that I’ve been with all year. They’re playing on their Chromebooks after taking a test, when one of my favorite students comes up to me with his computer.)

Student: “I want to show you something that I’m really proud of but I’m not sure I should.”

Me: “It’s my last day. I won’t get you in trouble.”

(He’s shown me before that he found a way around the school firewalls, and I’ve told him repeatedly that as long as he doesn’t do anything illegal I don’t care.)

Student: “Okay.”

(He sets down his Chromebook and types something in, then shows me the screen, which has a picture of the sixth grade hallway on it. I figure he’s been using his Chromebook as a camera, until the student sitting at one of the lockers moves.)

Me: “Wait, is this the camera feed?”

Student: *very proud of himself* Yep!”

(He shows me several other cameras, then the Google document where he has all the IP addresses for each camera listed, along with a label, and the password and name information for both the school’s camera system AND the intercom system.)

Me: *stunned silence*

Student: “And look, this is the outside camera.”

(He shows me the front door cameras and explains how the grid on the screen reacts to movement and takes pictures of any car that pulls up.)

Me: *sits in stunned silence before cracking up* “Oh, my god, you’re a hacker!”

Student: *still incredibly proud* “Yep!”

Me: “You’re going to be in charge of your senior prank. You realize this, right?”

Student: “I already have some great prank ideas!”

Me: “As long as you don’t do anything illegal, I won’t say anything.”

Student: “I know.”

(He went back to his desk, perfectly happy with his rule-breaking. I don’t think I’ll ever cease being surprised by middle-schoolers!)

(This takes place when I’m in boot camp. Several people in my division are told we need to get our wisdom teeth removed. I go to my appointment, and the dentist performing the procedure on me already looks irritated when she walks into the room. When she pulls out the needle to numb my jaw, I start trembling the from anxiety of having a giant needle pointed at my face. The fact that I normally do not have a problem with needles and am having this unexpected reaction upsets me even more.)

Dentist: *sees me shaking and rolls her eyes* “Calm down, would you?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m trying to!”

(She begins to jab the needle into my gums and while it wasn’t painful, it was still extremely uncomfortable. Each time I whimper, she rolls her eyes and grumbles about how people need to quit being babies. She numbs the right side of my jaw and moves to my left side. This time, she practically stabs me in the gums and I immediately feel a sharp pain through the whole side of my face. This causes to me to scream and jump, probably not the smartest thing to do with a needle still in your mouth.)

Me: “OW! WHAT THE F***!”

(I sit straight up and she shoves me back down into the chair.)

Dentist: “SIT DOWN! Stop being so d*** difficult!”

Me: “Woman, that f****** hurt like h***! You hit someth…”

(Right then, my entire jaw closes and seizes up, I can barely open my mouth.)

Dentist: “Stop being such a wuss! You’re just making this worse on yourself, now open your mouth!”

Me: *as best as I can through closed teeth* “I. CAN’T!”

Dentist: “Bull-s***! Quit being difficult!”

(She then tries to physically pry my mouth open which results in a couple minutes of severe pain in my jaw and her getting mad when I reach up to pull her hands away from my face. She eventually realizes that I’m not just refusing to cooperate and there really is something wrong with my jaw. She glares at me for a moment and storms from the room. She returns a few minutes later and throws a sheet of paper at me which turns out to be an appointment slip.)

Dentist: “We can’t do this today. Come back on [date]!”

(I attempt to mime the question “What about my mouth?”)

Dentist: “You’ll just have to wait. If it’s still messed up in a few hours, come back. Get out.”

(I returned to my barracks where it took an hour for my jaw to release and I could open and close it normally. My division commanders and some of my fellow recruits had a good laugh at me in the meantime. I went back on the day the appointment slip specified and ended up with a more cheerful, sympathetic dentist who extracted my wisdom teeth with no issues!)

(I work for a “heavy haulers” trash company. We pick up the big stuff the normal guys can’t, like furniture, dressers, and more. In our area there’s a bad bed-bug epidemic, so everyone is required to at least double-wrap the furniture. A woman calls us asking for a date to pick up a couch.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. What do you need?”

Caller: “I’ve got a couch I need to throw away. When can you get it?”

Me: Our next pick up date is Wednesday. All furniture must be at least double-wrapped or we will not take it.”

Caller: “Why?”

Me: “There is a bed bug epidemic in our area and we have to be careful.”

Caller: “But I don’t have bed bugs.”

Me: “That doesn’t matter if you do or don’t. Regulation says all furniture must be double-wrapped”

Caller: “This is bullshit! You’re making me pay extra for wrap for no reason!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but all furniture must be double-wrapped.”

Caller: But I don’t have f****** bed bugs!”

Me: That doesn’t matter. All furniture must be double-wrapped, or we can’t take it. No exceptions.”

Caller: *enraged* “WHAT? YOU THINK I LIVE IN SOME F****** PIG STY?”

Me: “I never said that ma’am, I’m sure you have a lovely home. But as per order all furniture must be double-wrapped.”

(She nearly slammed her phone down, judging from what I heard after ending the conversation with a reluctant “Fine!” and her address. When we went to collect the couch from her alley we saw a wrapping job that looked like she had a seizure when doing it. And while putting it on the truck my partner saw three bed bugs under the wrapper.)