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I pride myself on being patient when teaching driver education, something I have done for 30 years. I have encountered many, many students, who didn't seem to be able to hit the floor with their hat. But one incident was just too much.
I had a sweet young thing behind the wheel for the first lesson of the semester. She had volunteered to go first and seemed ready to show the other two kids how well she could drive. We left the rural school and started toward town.
As we approached the first stop sign, the young lady gave no sign that she saw it. We got closer, but she still did not slow down. Finally, I used the "teacher's brake" pedal, on my side of the car, to get us stopped.
When I asked her why she didn't slow down to stop for the stop sign, she replied, "but, Mr. Smith, the speed limit is 35 ALL the way to the stop sign!"
Little Zachary was doing poorly in math. His parents, after exhausting all other incentives, finally decided to enroll him in the local Catholic School. After the first day, Little Zachary came home with a very serious look on his face. He went straight to his room and started studying. This continued for some time. His mother was baffled as to why he had become so dedicated.
Finally, Little Zachary brought home his report card. He quietly laid it on the table and went to his room to study. With great trepidation, his mother looked at it and, to her surprise, Little Zachary go an "A" in math. She asked,
"Son, what was it? Was it the nuns, the books, the discipline, the uniforms?"
Little Zachary said,
"No!"
"What was it?" she asked.
Little Zachary looked at her and said,
"Well, on the first day of school, when I saw that guy nailed to the Plus Sign, I knew they weren't fooling around."
A teacher was helping one of her kindergarten students put his boots on.
He asked for help and she could see why. She tried pulling and pushing, but the boots still didn't want to go on.
When the second boot was on, she had worked up a sweat. She almost whimpered when the little boy said,
"Teacher, they're on the wrong feet."
She looked and sure enough, they were. It wasn't any easier pulling the boots off then it was putting them on. She managed to keep her cool as together they worked to get the boots back on - this time on the right feet.
He then announced, "These aren't my boots." She bit her tongue rather than get right in his face and scream, "Why didn't you say so?" like she wanted to. Once again she struggled to help him pull the ill-fitting boots off.
He then said,
"They're my brother's boots. My Mom made me wear them." She didn't know if she should laugh or cry. She mustered up the grace to wrestle the boots on his feet again.
She said,
"Now, where are your mittens?"
He said,
"I stuffed them in the toes of my boots..."