One reason I enjoyed teaching high school so much is because, for the most part, my students always humored me. I make ridiculously corny jokes, or answer their questions by singing contemporary song lyrics (can’t wait to bust out Flo Rida’s “Hands in the Air”), and the poor girls who shared a name with a song (Sara, Amy, and even an Adelaide) were serenaded. And really, most of the time, teenagers will give me a pity laugh or a death stare, but I don’t ever remember getting an eye roll. At least to my face.
I tutor younger students to earn some extra cash, and today I was trying to explain to one of them what it means to “deduce.” I tried a treasure map analogy, but it wasn’t going anywhere. Then it hit me: Blue’s Clues!
“You watch Blue’s Clues?” she asked.
“Oh sure! I think Steve is cute.” A look of horror passed her face, so I moved on to the point.
“What do you do on Blue’s Clues?” I asked.
“You find clues.”
“Right! Good job! Then what do you do with clues?”
“Think?” she said, a little unsure of her response.
“That’s right! ‘We sit in our thinking chair and think–think–thii–i–ink!.'” I sang this last line, looked at her, expected a smile to cross her frustrated face, and instead?
The eye roll.
Nary a smile or giggle to be found. I must admit, my ego was a little bruised. But the positive spin? Validation that high school is the right fit for me. If younger kids don’t appreciate my lame attempts at humor, then why cast my humor pearls before humorless (metaphorical) swine?