a double-decker pickle.

yesterday was awesome because flatley was out sick. you know it's a bad thing when the teacher's out and the kids learn more than they ever have. meagan taught them math. i gave a lecture on editing a paragraph, and then they did more math than they've done in the past four weeks. the sub, ms. goldstein, who wasn't really a sub, but rather a teacher with a small class, was strict and sent students out when they needed to be sent out. overall, she was the best teacher i've seen in a while. i wish it could've been that way for the rest of summer.

but alas, today, the return of katy. another walk, more pointless drivel, more worksheets with zero explanation. one upside was that we got to do mad libs. "on my first trip to london, i took a ride on a double-decker pickle." meagan and i chuckled like juveniles, surrounded by eld kids who obviously couldn't pick up on the innuendo. sadly, even the native speakers weren't getting it, either. even more obvious ones, phrases like, "a furry snack," "a compartment to store my sausage," or "i was feeling nasty." english is amazing.

then, the kids, as usual, got a little out of hand, and instead of sending them out like any normal teacher would, katy scolded them repeatedly, interrupting every lesson. i offered to take the next disruptive student outside, and force him to run laps. unfortunately, it backfired. "i'll go! me! send me!" esteban pleaded. i didn't know how to explain that the laps were a form of punishment, so i just kept quiet until katy got tired of him and eventually sent him out. outside, esteban asked, "what we doing? push-up?" "no," i said. "you're running laps." "ahh, i don't wanna do," he said, and started heading back toward the classroom. "no, you're coming with me," i commanded. he followed. i was too lazy to walk him all the way over to the field, so i made him run in the quad. "go around all the tables ten times," i instructed. he started running. on the first lap, he ran all the way through, even showing off, running on top of the tables. by lap three he was bored. on the sixth lap, i started taking pictures of him with his camera phone. the titles were in spanish, though, so i didn't know how to save them. on the ninth lap, he said he couldn't do anymore. "next time, you're going to do twenty." "okay," he said. "i'll be quiet."

i still plan on bringing meagan's camera to work tomorrow.

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