First, a classic teacher joke. The kindergarten children brought presents for their teacher, Mrs. Jones.
Brandon handed Mrs. Jones a gift. The teacher knew Brandon’s father was a florist. She held up the box and said, “Oh, you got me some flowers!”
“That’s right!” shouted Brandon.
Then Nicole handed Mrs. Jones a gift. The teacher knew Nicole’s mother owned a candy store. She held up the box and said, “Oh, I just know this is a box of chocolates!”
“That’s right!” squealed Nicole.
The next gift was from Andy. The teacher knew Andy’s father owned a liquor store. Mrs. Jones held up the box and saw a wet spot. It was leaking, just a little. She touched a drop with her finger and tasted it.
“Mmmm, is it fine wine?” she asked.
“No ma’am,” Andy answered. Mrs. Jones touched another drop to her tongue.
“Well then it must be champagne, right Andy?” she asked.
“No ma’am,” Andy replied.
“Well then, I give up. What is it?” she said.
He grinned from ear to ear and said, “It’s a puppy!”
That brings us to my favorite Facebook posts, from actual parents and students. You can’t make this stuff up:
First, “You said schools should teach cursive writing. I say no! My children have already learned too many cursive words from those movies we get at RedBox.”
Then, there’s this one: “You keep saying bullies pray on smaller children. I didn’t think they allowed that in school.”
From a student: “Who cares about this stupid dress code anyway. Next year I’ll be in collage.”
Another student wrote, “I don’t like the rules we have here. We need a new principle.”
A snow day post: “Why are they making us go to school tomoro? It don’t make any since.”
Another snow day post: “The news said schools was closed in clement weather. What does that even mean?”
One parent weighed in the day after the snow had melted: “You say Hamilton County schools will be on regular schedule Monday. But what is the time they will be open?”
Another parent asked, “Why do the schools keep buying computers? I think it is a waist of tax money.”
I love to visit elementary schools. If you want a huge dose of honesty, just talk to first and second graders.
I visited a second-grade class, and as I started talking to the kids, I thought I’d try to make them laugh. So I looked around the room, inhaled the air, waved my arms and said, “What a great classroom! It smells like EDUCATION in here!” I barely got it out of my mouth when a little boy raised his hand and said, “No sir, that’s Lysol. Miss Kathy wiped down everything before you came in.”
When I visited the second-graders at my old school in Alabama, it was a real treat. I told them that I, too, was once in second grade. One girl looked at me with those wide eyes and exclaimed, “I can only imagine what your village was like.”
I got more specific with them, and told them I had been a second-grader in their classroom, surrounded by those very same walls. A little boy, quite seriously raised his hand, pointed at his young, twenty-something teacher, and asked, “Was Miss Smith your teacher?” She may have kept him after school that day, I’m not sure.
I also visited an elementary school on a day when Miss Tennessee paid a visit, in full beauty-queen mode. The tiara, the sash, big hair, lots of makeup and a tight outfit revealing a shapely figure. After spending the better part of an hour talking about the evils of drugs and the importance of staying in school, she invited questions. The kids were shy at first, so she said, “Go ahead, you can ask me about whatever is on your mind.” A 3rd grade boy jumped up, raised his hand, and shouted, “Are you a Kardashian?”
I was about to read “Clifford the Big Red Dog” to a 2nd grade class, and I did my usual pep talk about reading. When I asked if they loved to read, they all raised their hand. I asked if 2nd grade was fun, and again, all hands went up. When I asked, “Are you looking forward to 3rd grade?” only a few hands went up. “So are you worried about 3rd grade?” I asked. Immediately, they began voicing their concerns about more homework, and learning the times tables.
I started in with the sales pitch. “You’re going to LOVE 3rd grade!” I said. “You’re going to read a lot more, and you’ll get even smarter than you are now!” I was on a roll. “Then soon you’ll be in middle school, and you’ll get REALLY smart!” I couldn’t leave well enough alone. “And then you’ll be in high school, and that’s going to be even MORE fun!” A 7-year-old girl put up her hand as if to stop me, and said, “Dude, slow down! We’re only little!”
These are great. Thanks for sharing!