During interactive writing group, Lil, a first grader, was writing the sentence we had just practiced. She looked up in the middle of writing a word and said, “Do you know one of Michael Jackson’s moves is?”
What I wanted to say was, “Where did that idea come from? We are writing about Spring. Does Michael Jackson have some correlation with the season?” Instead I replied with an inquiring look, “What?”
“He dances,” did a little shoulder move with a smile, and on she went to writing the rest of her word. Really? He dances.
* * * * * *
At the end of the day, waiting in the car pick-up line, Parker, another first grader, announced, “Hey, Mrs. Gensch, you are invited to my birthday party.”
“I am?” I replied.
“Yep. Guess how old I am?” smiling with anticipation.
“17,” my serious reply came.
“Nope. I’m 8! And I definitely know one thing?” Parker continued.
“What’s that?” my curiosity was ready for something about his party or a gift he got.
“I definitely have to start wearing deodorant.” His serious look and slight nod caused my coworker to turn around, holding back a smile. Me – I laughed, aloud, echoing down the hall. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings; I just couldn’t hold the chuckle in.
“I’m serious, Mrs. Gensch. I stink and I have to wear deodorant,” Parker smiled.
I hugged him. “Parker, good to know.”
At least he didn’t say he had to shave.