A few weeks ago, I started a class with 14 year olds. Already, we're onto our first irregular verb: 'to want'.
So, we were going around the class, expressing what we want.
Most students say pretty innocent things such as "peace," "love," "video games."
Seems easy enough, right? Wrong!
We arrive at Bjorn, tall and lanky yet otherwise unremarkable except for his habit of politely greeting me every freakin' time he sees me in the hall way. With a simple smile, he proclaims his want: "dynamite!" The class erupts in laughter. I chuckled a bit as well until I felt an increasing sense of discomfort.
"Hmm..." I respond, "I'll have to report that to the director." "Okay, well then, moving on, Mary, 'what do you want?'" "Wait, hold on, by the way, Bjorn, what do you want to do with the dynamite?" I inquire.
He reveals a shit eating grin and quips, "Blow stuff up!"
"Yeah, I'll definitely have to report this."
I still haven't reported it.
2 comments:
I'm out there. So I've been told. Way out there. And you have been tagged to do the following:
1. Write your own six-word memoir.
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post.
4. Tag five more blogs with links.
5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play.
Seems like a mere kevlar vest won't be enough, my friend... But seriously, it must be a trip working with 14-year olds. I remember being 14 myself and staring in amazement at my teachers, wondering how in the nine hells anyone could choose to go get a job where they had to hang out with little bastards like us all day long...
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