I was informed by my father that I had not updated my blog in over a week. "If you're going to blog, then blog," he said. I have always done what he's told me, so here it is.
On Tuesday, a multitude of unusual circumstances (which included one of the most bizarre plays I've ever seen performed) culminated in me teaching 30 first graders during library time. I was nervous, but bravely accepted the challenge and rose to the occasion. Earlier in the day the two first grade classes I was teaching had visited The Banquet, a local ministry that serves the hungry in our community. I wanted to hear about first grader's field trip and what they had learned while visiting. Being first graders, they were primarily concerned with the bead and pipe cleaner bracelets they were able to make while there and neglected to share with the finer details, like what actually happens at The Banquet. I began asking leading questions and finally J, the sweetest little guy who is as smart as a tack, says, "At The Banquet they make lots of food and feed it to hobos." I couldn't help myself and burst out laughing, which of course made 30 first graders also bust a gut. Apparently, my laughter, and not my lame jokes, is what really humors a first grader. I tried explaining that hobos prefer to be called homeless people now, but they didn't really seem to care. (Plus, I'm not sure if that's true anyway. As far as I know, homeless people aren't an ethnic group that gets to decide every 5 years what the new PC term for themselves will be. I'm still not sure whether I'm supposed to say Indian or Native American and get nervous every time that I've picked the wrong one.) My laughter had started a hobo craze. For the rest of library time I heard first graders say "hobo!", followed by gleeful laughter.