Wednesday, February 15
Whenever one raised his voice to a respectfully subdued whisper a devilish grin spread across his face, as if he was getting away with something. I played along, giving them a dangerous glare whenever I caught one of the punks so much as leaning towards another's ear.
How useless was I today? As the entire lesson plan called for the uber-kids to work on their own, I tried my best to wedge instruction anywhere I could. While they read a story (The one about the frontier kid who teaches an Indian to read and write using Robinson Crusoe) I occasionally interrupted, trying to teach something.
"You know, uh, Robinson Crusoe was written by Willem Dafoe."
Like the great kids they were, each would smile warmly and nod, as if they were actually giving my desperate ramblings thought.