podpolia

Student (walking into the room): “Did you get new glasses?”
Me: “Yeah.”
Student: “Nice. I noticed ’cause I care.”




Students discussing a research topic for a paper on careers (and theoretical dangers of these careers):
J: “My topic was being a musician…”
R: “Can you die doing that?”
J: “Yes. If a string snaps, it can slit your throat.”
H: “That’s why I play the piano.”

Before I began my semester of long-term substituting for 10th grade English, the previous teacher had the classes read a number of poems, including “The Abandoned Farmhouse” by Ted Kooser (go ahead and read it: this will make more sense afterwards, and it’s a short one).
The students seemed unimpressed by most of the poetry, which led to some of them being somewhat… creative when they wrote their answers on the worksheets, which I then graded. For example:
“8. How do we know how many members of the family lived in the house?”
“You take the number of adult males, the number of adult women, and the number of small children, and you then add all these numbers together, thus getting 3 inhabitants of the living structure.”


“10. What do you think happened to the family living in the farmhouse? Support your reasons with details from the poem.”
“They were captured and taken aboard a pirate ship. This situation is typical of a pirate abduction, notable because of the implied quickness of the event, with everything just being left there. It’s ok, because they were probably Communists anyways.”




It’s somewhat surprising to me that teenagers often seem nonplussed by poetry, considering the level of imagery and detail they put into their own writing (and not the stuff they turn in to teachers, either). Consider the following note that I confiscated one day (I have edited things to keep the identities of those involved under wraps, as well as for length):
Girl 1: Note begins with a story about seeing an unidentified female and trying to avoid them. After avoiding her the first time, “I hid in the middle of a group of freshman and cursed at her back. On the way to gym class, she passed me and like flipped her hair at me! Bizitch! oh well, I will find some way to get revenge!”
Girl 2: “Awww! What a son of a biscuit! Slorkatahoe! (Spelling?) does she realize that she’s being a hoebag?”
Girl 1: “idk, she didn’t even have the decency to tel lme! How could she NOT know that she is being a hoebag? Her skank juice is ALL OVER HIM!”




Occasionally the same creative imagery that brought us such descriptions as “Slorkatahoe” (and no, I don’t know what that means either) comes out in verbal communication, such as when one student, appalled at something they though was a very bad idea, announced that it was “like giving a monkey a gun!”

Me: “Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater / had a wife and couldn’t keep her…”
B: “He had to have her put down.”

As you may have noticed, I’ve been posting a number of quotes from my students that I have had building up on my desk, but hadn’t bothered to post. I thought I should include the (written) response to a question that I asked my sophomores about Julius Caesar (with all spelling and grammar left intact):


Q. What do you think is the most important theme in Julius Caesar?
A. ARR. I think that the most important theme in da story be that the scallywag Brutus wish to slit his own mates throat. This be a mutanis act ARR It makes me sicker than a fresh pair of legs on the sea to see how far ye yong men fall.

I get the impression that my students have seen quite a few commercials aimed at the ageing baby-boomer generation. This conversation, for instance:
P: “Can I go to the bathroom?”
Me: “I hope so.”
R: “Men with prostate problems can’t.”




Later that day, one of my students was complaining about the temperature in the classroom, and was messing with the thermostat. She said, “Mr. Barner, I’m going to turn up your weather.”
As long as she doesn’t make it rain…

M: “I wouldn’t want to have a bellybutton ring, because every time you pull a shirt over it, it would pull, and your belly button could come off.”
D: “And then your legs would fall off!”

While teaching Geometry recently, I was reviewing the answers to a homework assignment with the class:
Me: “Which lines are skew in relation to PR?”
Student 1: “OM and NQ.”
Student 2 [with a look of complete confusion]: “Um… what are you spelling?”




Also that day: “Look! Smart Kid and Sloth Kid are friends!”

At the end of class one day, a student was listening to his music at a particularly loud volume on his headphones. Some other students were trying to hear it as well, and one said, “If you open your mouth, it’ll be louder!”

Another student chimed in, “And if you put the earphones up your nose, it echoes!”

Later in the day, a student (who was apparently not feeling particularly bright) announced, “I have the brains of a mango!”

They felt no better about themselves when it was pointed out that mangoes are actually a fruit.

While encouraging students to get ahead of where they were required to be on a particular project, I outlined a particularly long and arduous list of things they needed to do.

“And if you get all that done, you’ll find yourself ahead of the curve.”

One student responded, obviously distressed at the volume of work to be done:

“I’m already off the curve, over the bank, down the hill, into the creek, and drowned.”