Billy, don't be a jackass.

Today, the students had a half day, so I only saw each class for about 25 minutes. While I checked their binders, I let them listen to a recorded story called The Landlady, a mildly creepy story by Roald Dahl. I didn't think it was a terribly difficult assignment, but it proved to be beyond some of my students. There are only two characters in the story: Billy Weaver and the landlady. The story ends abruptly, leaving it up to the reader to infer poor Billy's fate. (He's going to be killed and stuffed by the psychotic landlady/taxidermist, in case you were wondering. Told you it was mildly creepy.)

After the story ended, I turned the CD player off and asked each class, "What's going to happen to Billy?"

The response from my last class?

"Who is Billy?"

The best response to that question is probably somewhere between "Your mom" and "The main character of the story you were supposed to be listening to for the past 20 minutes," but I've discovered that teaching has robbed me of my ability to quickly think of witty AND appropriate retorts. Instead, I'm reduced to struggling not to blurt out a string of obscenities at the little turds. Because I hear they'll fire you for that.