Because Mr. Chili is traveling this month, I’m doing single-parenting duties (seriously? How you single parents manage is a genuine wonder to me. I unsarcastically bow to you). On Wednesdays, that means that the girls have to come to work with me; they can either stay in my office (as long as they promise to not wreak too much havoc) or sit in the class (as long as they promise to not be a distraction), but I’ve not got a regular sitter, so they can’t stay home.
Punkin’ PIe was working on a paper this week – it’s a letter, actually, that’s supposed to be written in the voice of a Civil War soldier. Keep this in mind.
My students are in the home stretch of the second of their three major papers, and they were told that they had to bring a draft to Wednesday’s class to workshop. Keep this in mind, too.
Sean is one of my favorite students in the evening class (I know, I know; I’m not supposed to have favorites. As long as they don’t know they’re a favorite, though, it’s okay, right? What if I have multiple favorites?). He’s funny and kindhearted, but he’s a goof. He regularly comes to class late and often doesn’t have the work prepared. I give him the requisite shit for it, and I make him take the consequences (three late arrivals equal an absence; late work is not accepted), but he’s so good-natured that it’s hard to be angry at him. He’s just adorable and good, and I love him.
So, Wednesday’s class time arrives, and Punkin’ is in my office trying to work through the rough draft of her letter. I mention to her that she’s welcome to bring it to class with her; I’m sure, I tell her, that one of the students would be happy to take five minues and workshop it with her before the class really gets going. She thought that was a good plan, so I got class started with Punkin’ sitting in one of the desks and asked my kids if any of them would be willing to workshop Punkin’s paper with her.
Sean’s hand SHOT into the air. I swear to goddess; if he’d said “Oooo! Oooo! Pick ME!” I would not have been a bit surprised.
I BURST into laughter. “You do realize, don’t you, that she’s not going to workshop YOUR paper, right?” I turned to Punkin’ Pie. “No offence intended, Baby,” then I turned back to Sean, “she’s ELEVEN. You get that, right?”
The boy was looking for an opportunity to do peer review with a sixth grader! Either his opinion of his work is really low, or he was hoping to not have to DO any work by having his paper edited by a middle-schooler. My GOD! He’s so FUNNY!
What he didn’t realize, of course, is that Punkin’ would have workshopped his socks off. I should have let her do it…