I’m wandering among the aisles, checking the oral communication students’ brainstorming graphs for oddities. I stop at the desk of one boy who is half unruly/half too smart for the class.
“What kind of a teacher do you want to be?” I ask, pointing at his bubble with the word Sensei scrawled across it.
He smiles. “P.E.”
“Not an English teacher?”
“Okay, maybe.”
“So English and P.E.”
“Yeah, a teacher or…a corn farmer.”
As if those are the only two options open to him.
