Random true story from tutoring
She was 8 years old, and initially quiet, demure, responsive to directions the way adults secretly want all little children to be. But because I am nice, and openly so with little kids, they quickly realize I'm a pushover and revert to their true selves. So after 20 minutes, the little girl was dancing like she was hoola-hooping without the hoop, falling out of her chair, and refusing to do the addition problems I set in front of her. Chortling at her own antics, she asked "Aren't I funny? Don't you think I'm funny??" "Yeah, you're pretty funny", I admitted with a resigned grin. I tried again to get her to complete a row of double digit addition problems. I repeated the problem to her, and she suddenly went quiet. "What was I laughing at?" she wondered aloud. Then she burst into giggles again. "I forgot what I was laughing about. That's FUNNY!"
I was mechanically reciting the problem to her, hoping it would eventually take root in her consciousness, when I noticed an unusually lengthy silence. I looked up to see she had quieted down only in order to slouch in her chair so she could touch her tongue to her sternum.
"Sometimes I like to lick myself," she giggled. "I taste like peanut butter." I stared at her, poised over a sheet of addition problems, and then surrendered to laughter. "I know a boy in my class who tastes like crap," she confessed.
When the wall clock struck three minutes until the hour, she leaped up in her seat and asked if she could be done and go look at the prizes booth, wherein were a multitude of goodies offered to students as rewards for their hard work. I said of course, and let her go while I remained at the desk to grade the last of her lesson. I saw her gambol over to the booth and press against the glass casing beside another tutor who was supervising his own student. She looked up at him and asked in all innocence and sincerity, "Hey, can I taste you?"
I was mechanically reciting the problem to her, hoping it would eventually take root in her consciousness, when I noticed an unusually lengthy silence. I looked up to see she had quieted down only in order to slouch in her chair so she could touch her tongue to her sternum.
"Sometimes I like to lick myself," she giggled. "I taste like peanut butter." I stared at her, poised over a sheet of addition problems, and then surrendered to laughter. "I know a boy in my class who tastes like crap," she confessed.
When the wall clock struck three minutes until the hour, she leaped up in her seat and asked if she could be done and go look at the prizes booth, wherein were a multitude of goodies offered to students as rewards for their hard work. I said of course, and let her go while I remained at the desk to grade the last of her lesson. I saw her gambol over to the booth and press against the glass casing beside another tutor who was supervising his own student. She looked up at him and asked in all innocence and sincerity, "Hey, can I taste you?"
posted by Bloo at 12:40 AM
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