Blatant Lie

It was an interesting day. They were holding short trainings for all the teachers--trainings that took about an hour--so we subs were covering teachers for one period and then moving on to cover another teacher the next period.

There are pros and cons to this. One big pro is that the teachers were there as the kiddos came into class.

Ms. C was on her way out when a student brought her his SSR log. He explained that he had left it on her desk yesterday, but apparently she hadn't gotten it.

Ms. C told the student he was full of it (although, not quite like that). While her desk wasn't pristine, it wasn't so messy that she'd miss stuff. And she informed the student that she had looked through her stuff the night before and had not seen his paper.

8th graders... *shakes head*

She was accepting those logs. She had a stack of maybe 10 by the time she left. I think they were a day late, but she was still taking them. So, I'm not sure what he got out of the lie. (Perhaps whatever she was deducting for late work?)

Have you ever told a teacher a lie about turning your work in? Did you get away with it?

Today's A to Z Challenge post brought to you by the letter...

Advertising

In school I took French, so I avoid Spanish classes. But when it's the whole Spanish department out...

Student called me over. With trepidation I approached. But I was pretty sure it wasn't a Spanish question. And it wasn't.

"How can taste be soft?"

Huh?

The boy showed me what prompted the question. His water bottle. Fiji water. The tag line: "The soft taste of solid rock."

For about a minute I tried to come up with some logical reply. But then I realized that we were dealing with marketing. Advertising.

Most commercials nowadays make no sense to me. So why would the tag line of this water?

I said something to the effect of marketing department trying to brand their water.

The boy turned to his friend. "I'm right." Because that's what boys do.

I walked away. There was no point in arguing. I don't think the friend believed he won the argument anyway.

Well, the boy did take out his Spanish book after. Success? (I can't say he got anything accomplished, though.)

Have you ever declared victory over an argument that there was no right or wrong to? How can taste be soft? Do commercials make sense to you nowadays (or am I the only befuddled one)?

Today's A to Z Challenge post brought to you by the letter...

Second Sleep

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements ;)

I don't know where I saw the article originally (I thought I bookmarked it, but alas...), but I found another that says the same thing. Apparently, our eight-hour a night sleep cycle is wrong. Just another thing that modern life has done to us.

What if our modern society had adapted to two four-hour sleep cycles? Would it be better for us? Or would someone be out there trying to get us to do something different?

Auditioning for the Ministry of Silly Walks

I like to throw out the occasional obscure reference. Well, the references are obscure to middle schoolers.

A girl complained that she was afraid that the ceiling was going to fall on her. She pointed up...

I looked at that cracked tile, and I thought something completely different. I told her I'd be worried about other things... (I did mention Doctor Who. She was perplexed. Luckily, the girl behind her knew what I was talking about, and I freaked her out in an entirely different way.)

But this week a weird thing started happening. Or maybe I started noticing it.

Boys, for reasons unknown, have broken into dance at random times. Usually while walking across a room. Or in the door. Or out the door.

There's no music playing. Well, maybe only in their heads.

So, I've been commenting: "Auditioning for the Ministry of Silly Walks?"

I'm greeted with blank stares. Brilliant.

They never ask. Oh, I want them to ask...



Well, one did ask. When I told him to look it up, he wanted to do it right then, on his phone. Sigh.

I have to keep myself entertained somehow...

Name Tags

I spotted them as I walked to my classroom for the day that morning. Hearts stuck all over the walls. Each heart had a name written on it. Interesting...

It was during the morning announcements that they were explained. It was a game. The students were to find their own names and bring that heart to the activities room. They would get a prize.

So, for the rest of the day, students came in wearing these hearts. Some complained that they couldn't find their own. As the day progressed, more and more of them had found theirs.

Then 6th period came in. Nearly half came into class with hearts...that were not their own.

"Alice, I have yours..."

Yep, they brought in hearts of their classmates. And gave them to them.

Well, it was "kindness week". That was rather kind of them.

(And it was an interesting game. I wonder how many hearts the activities room got back.)

Interesting Choice

CAHSEE day. Ms. B was in charge.

I was doing my normal walk of the room when I spotted her. She was a normal teenage girl in normal teenage attire. She was wearing a pair of sandals with socks underneath. Pink socks. With an interesting leaf design...

Um, really?

High school dress codes can be a bit over-the-top. Banning spaghetti straps, for instance. Or the ban on non-natural hair colors. And of course there's frayed or oversized clothing. (That one is because of its association with gangs.)

But there are certain things in the dress code that make sense. Like banning drug images. Marijuana leaves? That shouldn't even be a question.

Especially when one is going to be in a room with the strictest assistant principal at the school. I mean, come on! Did the girl really think Ms. B wasn't going to notice?

Ms. B let the girl finish her test, and then as soon as she was ready to leave, Ms. B pounced.

I'm sorry, but she had it coming. I guess she wanted to push the boundaries. And the boundaries pushed back.

A Doorway

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements ;)

What if you could magically create a door anywhere?