scheherazade_79
Steamy
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2003
- Posts
- 9,677
So I'm covering a maths lesson. It's a class with only about six students in it, who are all very limited in terms of ability, and then this conversation breaks out:
(I've changed the names of the people involved, for obvious reasons.)
(A girl walks past the classroom door)
Kylie: Oy! Sam Gonorrhea Griffiths!
Me: That's not a very nice thing to call someone, Kylie.
Kylie: I don't care. It's fuckin' true!
Me: I don't want to know.
Kylie: It is true, though, Miss. And she's a bitch, too - she decked me behind the tennis courts last week.
Me: I'm not surprised if you're calling her things like that. Sounds like you were asking for it.
(A little while later, the same girl walks past the door a second time)
Kylie: Fuckin' frothy knickers!
Me: Kylie, ENOUGH!
Kylie: Why aren't I allowed to say the truth? If she stripped after being on a trampoline, it would look like someone's shaken up a bottle of limeade and poured it in her knickers.
Me: (with my head in my hands) Oh my god...
(And it's at this point that a sweet little boy called Peter, who wears jam-jar glasses and comes from a nice respectable home, jumps into the conversation)
Peter: What's gonorrhea?
Me: I think we should let it drop now, Peter.
Kylie: Fanny germs.
(A deathly silence descends over the classroom)
The male learning support assistant in the room turned white, and then beet red. I know I should have been busy reprimanding, or at least correcting, but I ended up with my head on the desk, almost crying with laughter.
It is fucking awful, though
(I've changed the names of the people involved, for obvious reasons.)
(A girl walks past the classroom door)
Kylie: Oy! Sam Gonorrhea Griffiths!
Me: That's not a very nice thing to call someone, Kylie.
Kylie: I don't care. It's fuckin' true!
Me: I don't want to know.
Kylie: It is true, though, Miss. And she's a bitch, too - she decked me behind the tennis courts last week.
Me: I'm not surprised if you're calling her things like that. Sounds like you were asking for it.
(A little while later, the same girl walks past the door a second time)
Kylie: Fuckin' frothy knickers!
Me: Kylie, ENOUGH!
Kylie: Why aren't I allowed to say the truth? If she stripped after being on a trampoline, it would look like someone's shaken up a bottle of limeade and poured it in her knickers.
Me: (with my head in my hands) Oh my god...
(And it's at this point that a sweet little boy called Peter, who wears jam-jar glasses and comes from a nice respectable home, jumps into the conversation)
Peter: What's gonorrhea?
Me: I think we should let it drop now, Peter.
Kylie: Fanny germs.
(A deathly silence descends over the classroom)
The male learning support assistant in the room turned white, and then beet red. I know I should have been busy reprimanding, or at least correcting, but I ended up with my head on the desk, almost crying with laughter.
It is fucking awful, though