Yesterday, during a Wilson lesson (which is a reading program), one of my sixth graders—who reads at a first grade level—attempted to read the follow sentence: My classmate got the top prize. He read: My classmate got the pot pizza. (He wasn’t trying to be funny.) I lost it. Laughed and laughed until tears were rolling. He and his classmate starting laughing too. His little face got so red. He wasn’t embarrassed in a bad way, he thought it was silly as well. As I turned to relay the story to my para who wanted to know what was so funny, my student (still laughing) said, “Yeah, like you could make pizza in a pot!” At which I laughed all the harder. I was touched by the little scrap of innocence he showed—which is rare in my job. After several minutes, I got myself calmed down enough to continue with the lesson. I have a couple friends that would enjoy a pot pizza—and not the kind you make in a bowl.
During another reading lesson with one of my fifth graders, I was attempting to explain what a silo is. I thought it would be a good idea to draw a picture to demonstrate. So, I did. Two parallel lines with a dome on top. A nice little tower. As soon as I finished, I turned the drawing for him to see better; I realized what I had drawn. Sure, it could be a silo, but it really was penis. In a panic I did the only thing I could think of and drew a wind vein on top (yes I know those aren’t on silos). This only made the matter worse. Now the penis was shooting urine everywhere—or the other stuff that erupts occasionally. Turning redder the longer this went on, I quickly drew a building beside it. When he asked what I was doing, I told him I was drawing a barn (complete with hay loft)—every silo needs a barn. I then slid him the picture of a barn with an enormous penis attached. Thankfully, his innocence was somewhat intact as well, and he never realized what his special ed teacher had drawn for him. The drawing quickly found its way into the recycle box.
Black Coffee Tables
1 year ago