Let it be said, "I LOVE my kids." I am really excited about my classes this year. Although my numbers are a bit higher, and my schedule is atrocious with no break until two... although I am in desperate need of a softer chair or a pillow (even though I should have ample fluff)... I love my kids. So, it is with the highest respect that I relate this dialogue shared only today:
I have a student I'll call Suzette. Lovely girl, torn jeans, eyes rimmed in dark pools of well done tiger eyed color... In fact, when I posed the question today to consider what item each of the kids would grab if they had to leave their house in a hurry, not sure if anything would be there when they returned... as in Katrina, flood, fire, etc... Suzette's choice? Her makeup so she wouldn't look a mess after the disaster was over. Okay..
So she doesn't seem to enjoy reading, didn't truly want to be very quiet. I moved back to sit in her quadrant, and here is our exchange:
Me: Read, sweetie. (ALL MY reads are said quietly, kindly I hope, and firmly.)
S. I hate to read.
Me: Is it hard for you?
S: Nope. I just hate it.
S: I am not comfortable.
Another student: These chairs aren't good on my fat.
S: I am fat too (uh, no. She's not, by the way)
S: I have love handles.
S: How to you get rid of love handles?
Me: Do I look like I'm the right person to ask about that? Read.
S: Did you say reading would get rid of love handles?
Me: Well, no. If it did, I'd look like you!
Needless to say, the bell finally rang and our fascinating conversation came to an end. Not sure who learned what. Never am these days.
Have a good week.