Please listen up, because this one comes from the heart: I’m tired of your knuckles pummeling me into the hospital.
This is not why I became a teacher.
Seven years ago, I happily discarded plans to become an electrical engineer so I could read your argumentative essays on why the school’s dress-code sucks. I have forsaken fortunes to explain to you why 2X over X equals ... hell, I forget what that equals, thanks to the concussion you gave me with your trapper-keeper. I still vomit in my sleep from that one. And do you know how much new flannel sheets cost after tax? No, you don’t, because when I tried to teach you percentages, you shivved me with my own mechanical pencil. ...