When I tell people my profession I usually get one of the following responses:

 

  • “You’re an English teacher?  It makes me nervous to speak (or write) around you.”
  • “You’re an English teacher?  I hated English.  I hate to read.”
  • “You teach high school with teenagers?  On purpose?  How can you stand them?”

 

Now, anyone who knows me is already giggling at the thought of the first response. Like all humans, I make frequent little mistakes when I’m writing.   Unlike most humans, however, I make frequent big mistakes while speaking. 

 

These verbal errors, where I switch the first letters of words, are known as Spoonerisms.  I guess in the late 1800′s there was a Reverend William Archibald Spooner of Oxford that was infamous for these mistakes.  I’ve also been told that a propensity towards them shows intelligence.

 

If that’s the case–I’m a genius.

 

My most notorious example occurred while teaching the novel, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.  In a class discussion I “spoonerized” the main character’s name.  Think about it….Huck Finn.  Need I say more?

 

Not surprisingly, I shocked many of my poor students.  And they haven’t let me forget it.  Sadly, this event occurred not too long after October’s General Conference in which my father had spoken.  My students caught on that we were related.  (One student wanted extra credit for taking notes on his talk.  He even brought them in to show me.  We had a nice discussion about the separation of church and state).  I cringed a little when my students barraged me with comments like, “Miss C.!  Imagine what your father would say?!”

 

But even with this type of teasing, I really do like  teenagers.  (As for those poor, poor, lost individuals who hate English and don’t like to read…. I have nothing funny to say.  It’s just too sad for words.)  Once a person gets past the bravado and defensiveness of those in late adolescence, it is shocking to discover that there are some nice ones out there.  Some of them are even funny–on purpose.

 

Just this week I had two prime examples. 

 

While starting another round of state testing, my students were moaning because I have to read the lengthy, yet obvious, instructions on how to complete the test. (“Select your answers from one of the four possible choices.  Now find your answer document.  Fill in the corresponding circle for that question number with the same letter as the answer you’ve chosen.  Make sure to fill in the circle completely with a no. 2 pencil.  Make sure to breathe in an out. Blah. Blah. Blah.”)  A rather smart kid, Nick, tried to talk me out of going through these instructions.  The conversation went as follows:

 

N:  Ms. C, can’t you just pretend to read the directions.

Ms. C:  I’m sorry I can’t.  After all, there is just a limit to how cool a teacher can be.

N:  But you’re so far below your cool quota, I think that you could get away with it.

 

Isn’t it sad that a rather insulting little cuss is one of my reasons for liking teenagers?

 

The second example happened two days ago.  This week is “Spirit Week” at the high school.  That means that the sophomores, juniors, and seniors compete in a series of events, including trying to get the most students to dress up for the various dress up days.  Tuesday was dress-as-your-favorite-character day.  So I wasn’t that surprised to have one of my honors students show up in a complete business suit.  I knew it had to do something with the dress up day. 

 

However, just a few minutes before the school day ended, he stands up and announces loudly, “Duty calls!”  Within a few moments later this 17 year old boy, strong-and-stocky, has his suit on the floor and he is standing there in a Superman outfit.  I’m talking the whole royal blue unitard and cape.  He then flees the room with his cape trailing behind him, and runs down the hall.  Needless to say, the class was nearly on the floor, rolling in laughter.  Me too.

 

Now that takes nerve.  And it’s one of the reasons why I like teenagers.

 

It was equally as funny when he sheepishly returned to class to collect his suit.  I wonder if the real Superman has that problem.

 

Anyway, as I have recently been contemplating a career change and thought about the options out there, I am a wee bit surprised to how much I’ve learned to like this age group.  I actually can stand teenagers.

 

It might be because I equal, and do not exceed, them in maturity.

 

 

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