The Mysterious Disappearance of Uranus

*snort*

Please enjoy the following text conversation that I had with my friend Charlie, who teaches our technology classes at my school:

Charlie: We’re learning about Uranus today. Pray for me.

Me: WHY GOD WHY

Charlie: We’re learning about the solar system

Me: Yeah I figured

Charlie: The first class handled it fine. Your class makes me nervous. 😂

Me: With good reason

Charlie: “Mr. Box, I have a question about your anus” and I’m like GOOD

Charlie: They’re trying so hard

Charlie: I had to preface, “If you use voice-to-text to find your answer your iPad will go ‘your anus’ instead of Uranus so you HAVE TO TYPE IT.”

**I later discovered this piece of advice was because of the student who did indeed use voice-to-text and came up with a scientific textbook image of how to check rectal temperature.**

Me: Oh my.

Charlie: I’ve deleted Uranus

Charlie: If Pluto can go so can she

Since this text chain, I have been informed that 5th grade found a way to add this particular planet back in to the lesson, and there was a 10 minute stretch of students calling, “Hey _____, how big is Uranus?” across the media center.

Charlie did find a Magic School Bus episode to show the class, wherein this particular planet’s name is pronounced, “urine-us.” Frankly, I don’t see much of an improvement.

The English language is ripe for disaster when used around elementary students. They are both shocked and delighted when swear words are uttered — which at this age include “butt” and “shut up” — and its even funnier if the words are said by an ADULT by ACCIDENT.

I often make a list on the board of the items my students need to finish, in the order they need to be finished. If the list is long, I’ll often abbreviate: wkst = worksheet, RTS = Read to Self, etc. One day, I decided to abbreviate assessment.

I probably could just stop there. You know what happened.

Luckily, my brain kicked into gear after I heard the first *GASP* from behind me, and I quickly finished the word. Riots were averted. But that moment haunts me to this day.

Yesterday, my teammate showed up to lunch with a story of a student who proclaimed, “What the fuck?” in the middle of an assignment. There happened to be a paraprofessional in the classroom at the time, so my friend had someone with whom to exchange horrified looks/confirm they heard the same thing. When approached, the student explained that, oh no, he didn’t say fuck. He said, FUK. “I said ‘f-u-k,’ not ‘f-u-c-k.’ It’s different.”

The student was asked to explain the difference to the Dean of Students. Still unclear as of this writing.

Stories from the primary end of the building often benefit from the (nearly) universal rule: Kids Swearing Is Hilarious. For instance, it was disturbing and uncomfortable walking by a 5th grader telling a teacher, “Fuck you” on our way to Specials yesterday. However, when a 1st grader told Charlie, “Shut the hell up you goddamn piece of shit!” we couldn’t help but giggle. (At the end of the day, I mean. Charlie was quite professional in the moment, and met the student’s needs with the help of other educators.)

Upon reflection, it might be interesting to examine the different reactions you have to that last story, Dear Readers. So often, what makes us laugh is particular to the culture in which we are immersed. For those of you who don’t work with a large population of children — children who come from all kinds of homes and all kinds of backgrounds — this might be an off-putting anecdote. I invite you to step into Charlie’s shoes, and imagine those Tarantino-esque epithets coming out of a tiny human’s mouth. Then imagine Charlie trying to school his face while also showing empathy to the tiny human.

Teaching is no joke. Except when it [fucking] is.

Thanks for reading.

Love, Susie

This is my friend Charlie. Our jobs are weird.