"Did the slave owners know about the Underground Railroad?"
"David said he wouldn't use a sword to kill Goliath, so why did he?"
"The story says Abraham looked up and saw a ram for a sacrifice. How did Abraham pick up the ram?"
"How do mushrooms and worms break down dead things?"
"Why did they cover tombs with stones?"
My college classes did not prepare me for this.
They also did not prepare me for all the times my students would make me laugh. Not even just the Aw, you're a cute little kid kind of laughing, but laughter due to genuine amusement.
Like the time a student brought in a solar system model and plopped it on his desk (it did not stay there long). And then when a teacher came into the room and commented on the nice, productive atmosphere and another student, looking a little confused, pointed to the solar system (now on the shelf in the back of the room) and said, "There's an atmosphere over there!"
And the time when I told the students they'd have to take their chairs along to the assembly in the gym, and one student wanted to carry my chair down for me... and then clarified that he would take my rocking chair, while he demonstrated rocking in comfort at the assembly.
Or yesterday when the hot lunch consisted of chocolate chip pancakes with syrup, donuts, and chocolate milk, and one boy held out his hand, which held a donut hole, and asked, "Is my hand shaking because I ate so much sugar?"
And then today in math class as we were doing a probability demonstration, pulling red and green tiles out of a bag, one boy decided it could use some commentary. (Because somehow even the most mundane tasks become competitive and full of suspense.) "Red comes out ahead. Kevin dives into the bag - and - oh no! Out comes a green!" (I can't even mimic how truly entertaining it was to me.)
And of course there are the conversations I overhear, like this one, while they were watching Homeward Bound for their reward:
Worried and concerned student: "Is he dead?"
Experienced and carefree student: "It's a movie. Of course he's not dead."
Finally, there are those conversations I have with the students, sometimes just to entertain myself more than anything. Like yesterday when I heard two boys talking about another boy.
"Freddy likes every girl in the class!"
Me (in my most cheerful teacher voice): "I hope so! You're supposed to like all your classmates!"
First earnest and sincere boy, kindly explaining to me: "There are two kinds of like."
I just smiled, which did not satisfy.
Second earnest and sincere boy: "It's true!"
I couldn't help but giggle as I assured them, "I know," and walked away.
