On the Hilarity & Absurdity of Children
Educators wear heavy boots more often than not. It is vital to pay attention to the moments of levity that our students provide us during the day. So let's laugh.
The mass of issues our education system is facing is overwhelming with hurdles that we all have to climb for children to have a great education. But…I want to take a moment in time to just laugh about who we teach. Not *at* them (which of course, happens) but laugh with them. It is vital to introduce humor into your classroom as a teacher. My class would not have functioned properly without it. Here are some tidbits from my former classrooms and mined from the experiences of teachers all over the nation when I asked them, “What are some outrageously hilarious moments that have happened in your career?”
My 12th grade English class, 2018:
We were in the midst of reading Othello, one of my favorites to teach, and one of my students was reading for Desdemona. If you’re familiar with this play, you’ll know that Desdemona (or Dezi/ D$ as my students called her) was quite the force to be reckoned with for a woman in Shakespeare’s era. So this child, reading for the role of Desdemona, stops mid-sentence and just yells, “DESDEMONA AIN’T NO BITCH MISS!” The class of course derailed. They laughed and looked at me for my reaction.
I knew at that exact moment how some of my colleagues would react. I was a new teacher, green as all hell and completely drowning in the system. But I knew myself, and I remembered how I felt in classrooms that dismissed my opinions, or my peer’s opinions simply for being colloquially “off-putting.” I chuffed and said, “You know what? You’re not wrong. But tell me why.” Epic discourse ensued. News flash: teenagers cuss. I am not a fan of cuss words being flung around my classroom willy-nilly, but teaching kids the intentional use of language is a shockingly important act.
(Disclaimer: This is largely directed to 9th-12th grade classrooms.) If the language is not hateful or used for attention-seeking purposes, often that humor can add value. It is a fine line at times, but to dismiss that specific comment would be saying to that student, “Your assessment of this character is wrong because of one word you said” when in reality, he was genuinely right. Desdemona…ain’t…no…bitch. She was strong, she was the only female to enter the war chamber, she was the daughter of a senator, and stood up to her father at a time when women just simply did not have that power. She married a black man which in turn, ostracized her from the community. Anywho. I liked that student’s initial assessment. We dug further in, I mean I’m not that chill of a teacher.
Quick tip: Read aloud in class. Plays and short stories especially. Get kids to sign up for roles. I swear it will be the most unexpected magic of your life when you introduce them to the power of theater.
My 12th grade English class, 2019:
“What are some of Troy’s main motivations as a character?” I asked my 12th-grade English class halfway through the play Fences, sitting on a rickety stool in front of 35 18-year-olds.
Out of the ether came the comment, “clappin cheeks with some hunnies!” The crowd went wild. I stifled a chuckle because…I mean…that is funny. And gross. Really, really gross when you give it some thought.
Attempting to be professional, “Kirk, mustttt we? Can you try again in a school-appropriate comment?”
“Troy’s main motivation is having sexual intercourse with as many women as he possibly can because he is incapable of being alone because he will think of Death if he is alone too much. And he likes power and control, which he gets with women.” And there it was. The real answer behind the cloud. Also, the capitalization of Death is not a misspelling. Go read Fences. :)
“Nailed it bud. I’m going to strike that first comment from the record though.”
“Fair enough Miss.”
I didn’t want to dismiss that comment by leaving it in an eye-roll and moving on (which every single teacher has done before at some point in time when they are overwhelmed and want to ignore it). He wanted a little attention, that was clear. But he needed to say his thoughts in his own way, however vulgar, and then given the chance to analyze one step further, he was able to identify the deeper answer that he had all along. This is not revolutionary, nor is it a guide for teaching. But sometimes (or all of the time?) children just say ramblings into the ether, begging for something to be picked up and talked about.
10th grade English, 2017:
We were reading Woman Warrior by Maxine Hong Kingston and comparing the folklore of Mulan with the Hollywood version. I can wax poetic about the incredible conversations these 15-year-olds had surrounding how skewed Asian representation in Western films is BUT that’s not why we are here today. We are for this:
The scene pops up where Mushu is roasting a potsticker over the fire at the top of a snowy mountain. From the back of my classroom, I hear, “GODDAMN! THAT IS ONE BIG ASS RAVIOLI!!!”
So. I paused the movie and put my head on my desk because I was bawling from laughter. The class erupted. They asked this student to leave (in jest) because he didn’t know the difference between a ravioli and a potsticker. So then I researched foods, projecting pictures of both. And ya know what? He learned something that day (I guess). Education matters. And his nickname for the remainder of the week was Rav.
Elementary School classroom, 2nd grade:
An elementary school teacher responded to this question and said, “One time, a student in my class acted like a cat for far too long. I put a stop to it when he licked my arm and I told him I was allergic to cats. He started a bit more tame. Answering questions with meows, crawling under the small group table, but then he started nuzzling my leg with his head and trying to lap up water from his open water bottle, but the full-blown lick to my arm was the hard stop for me.”
Elementary School classroom, 3rd grade:
Another elementary teacher told me that one of her students brought in truck nuts (you know…not nuts and bolts…but…) the first week and was opening their desk to show peers. WE LOVE THE IMAGINATION HERE.
High School classroom:
A former colleague of mine shared that during her math class, two kids brought in an air fryer and cooked Dino nuggets in the back of the class. She didn’t realize until the end of class and then walked back there and ate some with them.
Middle School classroom:
I was subbing in the 7th/8th-grade classroom of the school I work at just a few weeks ago and one of the 8th graders, mid-focus, turns around and blurts out, “What is a big ice cube called?” The class looked at her in awe and in silence, then responded, (all together I might add), “An iceberg…?” “YUP! That’s the one. Thanks, guys.” I smirked in the corner.
A Kindergartener to me in the hallway this month:
I was sitting at the front office desk printing some things out when one of my favorite kindergarten classrooms passed by in their silent line. The teacher said, “You can all say a silent hello to Ellie with a funny face or a wave, but no words.” So the kiddos (and obviously me) participating in a battle of gestures, tongues sticking out, jazz hands, etc and the last kid passes by, salutes me, and says, “Good mornin’ baby.” So I will just leave that there.
Getting Roasted By Children: A Subset of Teaching
There truly is nothing more biting than an insult from a kid. Whether they are in PreK or 12th grade, that sting just hits differently. They tell you the truth regardless if it’s kind or necessary and sometimes, goddamn, these comments make you laugh.
I wore a striped shirt to school and someone in my 6th period, from the literal back of the room yelled, “Miss Moran, you goin’ on a yacht?” To which I chuckled and responded, “This is peak boating wear.” Then proceeded to do a spin move.
One time I had a fever from the second vaccination and it was during my observation (a piece to come on that soon) and the same kid, from the back of the classroom in the MIDDLE of my lesson, yelled out, “Moran, looks like she’s about to pass away. You good?!” So…that was a fun day.
My colleague came up to me with a drawing one day and told me that for a fun warm-up, he told his class to draw the last old person they saw. He was going to have them make a character sketch of that person to follow the drawing. They turned them in and as he was rifling through them, he found a drawing of himself with wrinkles galore. He was 37 at the time.
A 10th grader in my classroom as I walked in: “Same shoes, different day huh Miss Moran?” I was a first-year teacher not getting paid yet, so the outfits were slim pickings.
Once, a senior came up to me with a Chipotle bag and told me that he had bought me a burrito for lunch. I said, “Brian, that is so kind of you!” He then placed the bag in my hands, immediately snatched it away, and ran down the hall yelling, “You fool!” No lunch for me.
A friend of mine had a kid ask what was wrong with her eyes. He was referring to the bags under them.
“No offense Moran, but today you look like an uppity white girl who loves Pumpkin Spice Lattes.” I was wearing a green sweater. Offense taken.
“I got called a “little bald bitch” two weeks ago.” -Veteran 11th/12th grade English teacher
“Just got called ‘Chunky Monkey’ the other day.” -Same veteran teacher. He had a bad week.
“Last week I decided to wear a color for once (neon yellow) and I got called a tennis ball and a student told me, ‘It’s serving piss and the whole look is shit.’” -Veteran high school English teacher.
“ ‘You’re short as hell, how can you be so mean?’ ” -Veteran high school English teacher. The message here? High schoolers can roast…I will tell you what.
“A kid once asked me, ‘Do you play Risk? You look like the kind of guy who plays Risk.’ ” -Veteran high school Math teacher. This has to be the greatest insult of all time and I cannot even explain why.
“An elementary kid once shouted, ‘Ms. P! You have baby knees!’” This one got me good.
“In a Google Doc, an elementary kid commented on her OWN paper to me saying, ‘You smell like a ding-a-ling bittccccchhhhhh.’” She thought it would show up as anonymous.
“Did you plan on having this baby? Did you have to touch your husband’s privates?” -A 3rd grader to a 7-month pregnant teacher, in front of a team of teachers at pick up. Hard not to lose feeling in your knees in the moment on that one. But then we got into the problematic territory of the phrase “had to touch”. Teaching is such a fragile art.
Advice that not one of you asked for:
Dress up in a full penguin costume to teach 12th graders on Halloween. Being able to make fun of yourself as the adult in the room, embarrassing yourself on spirit days, and overall understanding that you are not the most important person in that room is what makes a classroom safe. That, and stricter gun laws, but I digress. Children need to see examples of adults being professional, respectful, kind, mature, and knowledgable, all while seeing them as silly, weird, absurd, fun, and someone they can share their opinions with. Sounds difficult to pull off, doesn’t it? It is. Not like I would know, have yet to crack that code. Children will say whatever is on their minds regardless of if they feel heard and seen in a classroom, I will tell you that much. You will get the class clown in the room (my senior year superlative eyoooo) who just wants attention. It is never a personal affront when a student makes a dumb joke at the expense of a classmate or hell, even makes fun of you. It is insecurity, let’s just name that right here. But also, the comedians have a point.
We sit children in rows of desks all day at more traditional schools. Desks that, by the way, my senior basketball boys could never fit in. Their legs are scrunched, and they are restrained physically in a classroom way too small to fit 35 grown people, and we drill them with content from 8:00 in the morning to 3:00 in the afternoon. 90% of my students had a job if not two. They were in sports after school, choir, theater, volunteer work, took care of siblings, etc. Add hormones galore and a plethora of traumatic experiences they have been through and we want them to sit up straight, raise their hand, and answer correctly. Now, a few veterans will have something to say about what happens next in this piece, but I don’t much care.
Here it is: if your students do not feel comfortable around you, and you take yourself too seriously, and if they do not like you, THEY WILL NOT LEARN FROM YOU. Just ask them. Now, I am not saying that you need only be a stand-up comedian or a try-hard cool teacher. We have boundaries, we are professionals and adults. But man, comedy goes a long way in education. It teaches emotional resilience as well, especially to a generation that rarely belly laughs due to oh, I don’t know, crippling anxiety, depression, lockdowns, social media, etc. We can feel light even in the heaviest of times.
So to start the new year off, and this goes for anyone who is in a teenager’s life (which, is another piece on why Gen Z is amazing and why we should all be in a community with adolescents) try something in your classroom, or at your dinner table. I started “Story Time” (reallyyyy clever title I KNOW) on a very dark, very snowy January morning when I was teaching 10th graders during 1st period. No one wants to learn at 7:30 in the morning, particularly in January in Colorado. No one wants to teach at 7:30 in the morning either. So to start a 90-minute block period, I began by telling the story of how I got the stitches in my lip. It was full of twists and turns, I acted out moments, and I moved about the classroom. I took questions after and then asked, if anyone had a story about an injury they wanted to share, they could come up to the stool and tell it. Out of 35 students, about 25 hands were raised. The snow was falling outside and our floor-to-ceiling windows in that 100-year-old building illuminated the crystals and our skyline perfectly. I sat at the kids’ desk who was at the stool each time they told a story, and they got to call on someone else. They asked for it the next week, with a different theme. And the next week after that. To take 20 minutes for community, for stories, and for laughter, is not only fun but vital. They learn to face their public speaking fears, their “too cool for school” attitudes are chucked out of the window because they are telling stories of elementary crushes, injuries, and family traditions.
I will leave you with this: You may be the person to lift someone out of darkness on any given day just by telling a good, gripping story or listening to one. Humor can save lives. It has saved mine.