As a kid, parent-teacher conferences were embarrassing and awkward for me and my parents. My teacher made my parents write on the blackboard one hundred times, “We will not have any more children.”
Why Was My Grade So Low? [restrict]
Melissa went up to her college professor, ready to contest the grade she received in the class. “I don’t understand why my grade was so low. How did I do on my research paper?
After staring at her with a blank look, the professor responded. “Actually, you didn’t turn in a research paper. You turned in a random assemblage of sentences. In fact, the sentences you apparently kidnapped in the dead of night and forced into this violent and arbitrary plan of yours clearly seemed to be placed on the pages against their will. Reading your paper was like watching unfamiliar, uncomfortable people interacting at a cocktail party that no one wanted to attend in the first place. You didn’t submit a research paper. You submitted a hostage situation.”
Our teacher asked what my favorite animal was, and I said, “Fried chicken.”
She said I wasn’t funny, but she couldn’t have been right, because everyone else laughed. My parents told me to always tell the truth. I did. Fried chicken is my favorite animal. I told my dad what happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA. He said they love animals very much. I do, too. Especially chicken, pork and beef.
Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal’s office. I told him what happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.
The next day in class, my teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was. I told her it was chicken. She asked me why, so I told her it was because you could make them into fried chicken. She sent me back to the principal’s office. He laughed, and told me not to do it again.
I don’t understand. My parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn’t like it when I am. Today, my teacher asked me to tell her what famous person I admired most.
I told her, “Colonel Sanders.”
Guess where I am now …
The students in my third-grade class were bombarding me with questions about my newly pierced ears.
“Does the hole go all the way through?” “Yes.”
“Did it hurt?” “Just a little.”
“Did they stick a needle through your ears?” “No, they used a special gun.”
Silence followed, and then one solemn voice called out, “How far away did they stand?”
Stopped for Speeding
A police car pulled me over near the high school where I teach. As the officer asked for my license and registration, my students began to drive past. Some honked their horns, others hooted, and still others stopped to admonish me for speeding.
Finally the officer asked me if I was a teacher at the school, and I told him I was.
“I think you’ve paid your debt to society,” he said with a smile, and left without giving me a ticket.
Failed the Exam
Father: Why did you get such a low score in that exam?
Father: You were absent on the day of the exam?
Son: No but the boy who sits next to me was! [/restrict]