I’m doing Thanksgiving lessons this week, and so far it’s been successful. It’s divided into three main components: 1) The story of the first T-Gives (In which I am lauded with applause every time I write the characters for England [英国 ] and America [美国 ], two characters I learned my first semester in class. I’m not above fame-seeking.) 2) Teaching them the names of some traditional foods and then having them plan a Thanksgiving menu as a class (This has backfired on me. I teach right before lunch almost every day, so I skip from class to the cafeteria and then load up my tray to the brim. Basically, I’m looking like a stereotypical fatty fat from America to my coworkers. Welp.) 3) Teaching them what it means to be thankful and then having them write down what they are thankful for. It’s been going well so far, even my lower level classes are getting into it.I had an awkward moment today though with component number 3. I was going around, making sure everyone was doing their work and checking their answers. (It’s so much fun to bust kids who aren’t doing their stuff. “Hey, guys! What are YOU thankful for?!?!?“) Making the rounds, one 8th grade boy eagerly waved me down grinning to show me his answer. I took the paper and read.
I thankful for 1BJ.Now I’m annoyed. 8th graders are notorious for pushing the limits on what is acceptable in class. We all did it at that age. In a different class, I had them write sketches about finding bugs in a hotel room. Two boys presented a sketch about “fuck a chicken.” Not cool, guys. So I glare at him and begin to tell him off. Why would you do this? Do you think it’s funny? I am a teacher, you need to show me respect. The kid looks back at me, a hurt expression in his eyes. “But, Mr. C,” he stammered, “he is my favorite.” I looked at the paper again. I had misread.
I thankful forHe was trying to tell me that he was thankful for LeBron James. Not blowjobs, just his favorite basketball player who he idolized. Oops. Students: 1
Mr. C: -500