The (very macho) screams you just heard came from me after half a bottle of hairspray didn’t kill this sucker that was chilling on my ceiling. (I wasn’t about to walk under it to get to my kitchen where I keep the bug spray.)
I had to roll up a magazine and go Rambo on its Andre the Giant-sized ass and LeBron James-length legs.
There’s a cloud of “light hold staying spray” making it difficult to breath right now, but suffocating after an asthma attack is a small price to pay after a battle royale against a grasshopper-spider-daddylonglegs-freak of nature that infiltrated my Castle of Solitude.
[after a long discussion about how chickens freak me out and that I really don’t like birds in general]
Student 1: How can you not like birds?
Me: I just don’t. They’re OK to look at from a distance, you know, with glass separating us.
Student 2: You don’t like any birds?
Student 3: What about ducks?
Student 4: Even doves?
Me: Are doves birds?
Student 4: Yes.
Me: Then no.
Student 5: What about parrots?
Me: (raised eyebrows)
Student 5: Everybody likes parrots.
Class: (looking at me expectantly)
Me: (Shake my head)
Student 5: You’d like MY parrot.
Me: Probably not.
Student 6: What if I brought in a bird, you know, like an eagle or something.
Me: I’d leave.
[slight lull in the conversation]
Student 7: (raises his hand)
Me (after a sigh): Yes?
Student 7: What about owls?
“I’m cool, I’m cool, I get along with everyone.” (As he’s being forcibly held back from a fight.)
“Once a honeybun is thrown, you know it just got real.”
Her: You know what you should do after you retire, you know when you’re 97 years old?
Her: You should start doing some crazy stuff–
Me: I think that’ll happen before I’m 97…
Her: Like writing up kids for breathing and bringing their pencils to class.
Me: (big grin)
Her: You should totally write up [Student who is fastidiously punctual] for being three minutes early. Block him from entering the room and say, “This is totally unacceptable, you need to leave. Class starts at 7:25, not 7:22.”
Me: (laughing) And the next day when he comes in on time, his usual grumpy self, I’ll immediately call security because I just can’t have that much positivity and happiness in one room.
I asked my student to hand over his phone before I gave him a pass to the bathroom. He told me that he’d accidentally broken it last night.
I jumped up and with a big grin, danced around the room singing the Hallelujah! chorus. OK, slight exaggeration, but he was mystified as to why I was so ecstatic about his misfortune.