I guess there's an argument that if his comment wasn't out of line, yours wasn't. Of course, there's also an argument that he should have hit you with a chair.
(Someday I should tell the story from my short and ill-fated teaching career of how I semi-accidentally whacked a kid over the head with a meter stick for showing disrespect. We did get along much better after that happened, though.)
I sincerely expected him to duck -- he, apparently, sincerely expected me not to actually swing. This was in the Peace Corps, in a Samoan school where hitting the kids was the normal disciplinary procedure, so I didn't actually violate any social norms. Felt terrible about it, though.
I sincerely expected him to duck
Now that's funny.
You kind of had to be there. Uili didn't use my classroom as a shortcut from one side of the building to the other after that, though.
If somebody gives you a setup that easy, they are not allowed to be miffed when the laughably obvious punchline is delivered.
I once hit a kid in the head with a frisbee on the playground. I was forced to write an apology note. I wrote, "I am sorry I hit you in the head. I meant to hit you in the legs."
re: 6 -- then what's with all the criticism of low hanging fruit (and those who can't resist it)?
I was but a boy, textualist. We are now men.
LizardB will appreciate this story. (As I reveal who I am to her, if she hasn't guessed already.)
I talked back to my 12th grade English teacher, Mrs. Laster, who was a formidable Dragon Lady that everyone was afraid of. I had been cutting class, and she confronted me about it:
Mrs. Laster: You're in a fog these days, Cunningham. You have to pull yourself together.
Me: No, I don't. I got into college already.
Mrs. Laster: You think I won't send the college a report of your behavior?
Me: Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I think.
That's funny, ac.
I'm surprised we haven't heard from the apostropher, who I figured for a very talkbackative kid.
It seems I was kind of a wuss in high school. Backtalk-wise.
It probably won't surprise anyone to learn that I was a backtalker in high school.
I would have loathed being your grammar teacher.
I say that with the highest possible admiration, of course.
I think it's important to note that, Michael-like, I'm commenting drunk.
The story passed into legend, since no one had ever dared to give this woman attitude. Someone a few years below me recounted it to me when we met up in college, not knowing I was involved.
Joe, please say that you were commenting drunk at all times when you enthused about Peeps.
Oops. Sorry, Mitch. At least I didn't embellish the second time.
Would it, at this juncture, be moot to point out that your teacher should have said "Ogged, I'm sick of your talking back to me"?
Maybe ogged can still get in touch with him.
That would be the ultimate back-talk, wouldn't it?
Oops. Sorry, Mitch. At least I didn't embellish the second time.
Ah, you misunderstand me. Just as Gary Farber's niche in this ecosystem is "I blogged that s#$t before anybody" , mine is "except for Gary, ogged blogged that s*%t before anybody." Only in this case, I was just reminding you of that ineluctable fact.
Ac--
You gave Mrs Laster lip? I never even took a class from her, and I was afraid of her. My restrospective respect for you grows.
Having been the most mild-mannered girl for grades 7-11, I apparently became James Dean at the end there. Not sure why.
Senioritis. Having had it for six years myself, I didn't change much.
Backtalk received from students, rather than given to teachers (all dialogue takes place in Samoa -- my ethnicity is a source of comment):
Student: Miss Breath, what are all those brown spots on your arms?
LB: We call them 'freckles' -- they happen when I go in the sun.
Student: They're very ugly. Will they get better?
And then there was the day they threw rocks. Well, one rock. All right, a piece of gravel. But I was traumatized.
To be fair, I'm not Samoan, and I think freckles are ugly. (I kid b/c you're married, and I hurt). But I draw the line at rock throwing, and have since my mid-twenties.
Who said I was crazy about freckles? But my students mocked my pain < swooning, hand to forehead >.
It's interesting living someplace where you're freakishly ugly -- I wouldn't have wanted to do it for more than two years, but definitely an experience.
My high school econ teacher did Peace Corps somewhere in SE Asia, and had a durian thrown at him.
He also has a photograph of himself wearing a sarong he did not know to be intended for women.
I brought back a bunch of ie (Samoan for sarong) from Samoa, and still get a mildly transgressive thrill from wearing them in a gender inappropriate fashion. (Women's tie: tightly wrapped and longer than kneelength, acting as a hobble skirt, with a small knot on one hip. Men's tie: Knee length or shorter with a big puffy knot front and center, presumably intended to indicate the massiveness of the equipment concealed behind it. The men's tie is much less restrictive and more practical, but verboten in Samoa if you're female.)
It's interesting living someplace where you're freakishly ugly -- I wouldn't have wanted to do it for more than two years\
FL will now speak to the realities of doing it for 30+ years. (Where is Abu?)
It's interesting living someplace where you're freakishly ugly
I can't imagine that.
The idea that freckles are ugly is weird. I can understand it in Samoa, where having freckles is very unusual, but in the US? Nah.
The best part of freckles is seeing where they stop.
Or when they don't, Tripp.
I've always thought of my freckles as an example of a huge collective action problem: If they'd just organize, I'd have a tan. It would only cover parts of my body, though, and might look weird.
What if they organized into cool geometric patterns? That would be awesome. Or spelled out words. Mood freckles.
I'd have a tan. It would only cover parts of my body
So you'd look like Ogged. Big deal.
I've always thought of my freckles as an example of a huge collective action problem: If they'd just organize, I'd have a tan. It would only cover parts of my body, though, and might look weird.
Sadly, my mother (very fair, Irish, heavy tanner in the 60s and 70s when it was all about baby oil) had this happen. It's not pretty -- kinda mottled.
Freckles are good. They are dynamic while the rest of us make do with static.