PreK kid: “My mom is from vagina.”
He meant Virginia, but still technically correct.
Kid who never completes the homework I leave for him proudly hands me his work…
Kid: “You’ll be so happy– I did ALL the homework!”
Me: “Fabulous!” (look at sheet. See it’s incomplete. Stare at child, confused)
Kid: “…that I had time for.”

A 5th grader I tutor, who is generally not one to open up about anything personal, expressed to me that he was really devastated by the results of the election, and that he found it personally hurtful that anyone would vote for a bully like Donald Trump. I told him that what he was feeling was the same thing half the country was feeling, and that he has every right to feel saddened by what has happened. I then decided to use his emotional experience as an opportunity for him to practice his writing skills. We were about to start a narrative piece, and I had prepared a topic that I thought he, in his classic boy-ness, would enjoy: “Imagine you have a superpower for a day.” Getting him to write can be a painful process and I knew he’d think this topic was fun. But given that he was grappling with all these emotions from the election, I proposed that instead he write about his experience of disappointment and anger (and perhaps he’d mature a bit in the process).
Me: “Writers are often inspired by what happens in their lives, and usually the most powerful pieces of writing come from a place of genuine, deep emotion. I think what you are experiencing right now would be perfect inspiration for a writing piece. And it will have the added benefit of making you feel better, because writing is often used as a way to express, and therefore move on from, experiences and emotions that upset us.”
Kid: (intrigued) “Wow, that’s a really good idea, actually. I like how you have all these smart ideas that I would never think of. I think I probably WOULD feel better if I wrote out all these feelings.”
Me: “Aw, fabulous! So how ’bout we start brainstorming some ideas?”
Kid: “Ok, cool! I’m going to do a web.”
(I search in my bag for a pencil as kid draws a web. When I look over, I see he has written ‘invisibility’ and ‘removing my head.’)
Me: “Wait. What do these things have to do with the election?”
Kid: “Oh, nothing. I’m writing about my superpower.”
Me: “But…wait…I thought you just said writing down your feelings about the election was a great, smart idea!”
Kid: “Well, yeah. It was. But I’d rather write a story about ripping my head off my neck and carrying it around in my hands. How cool would THAT be?!”

Sitting at a Starbucks communal table reviewing some math work. A random guy is sitting next to me and eyeing my papers.
Guy: “Looks like some tough math. I don’t know how to do any of that stuff!”
Me: “I know, right? 8th grade math is no joke!”
Guy: “You’re in 8th grade? Really? I assumed high school, like maybe a senior!”
Me: (Confused stare. Not sure if he’s serious. Realzing he is.)
Guy: “Jeez. Should you be sitting here doing homework all alone? Where are your parents?”
Me: “I tutor an 8th grader. That’s what the papers are for.”
Guy: “Oh.”
Me: “I am 34 years old.”
Guy: “Ah.”
<silence>
Guy: “Well this is embarrassing.”
On so many levels.

While assessing a Kindergartener’s math skills, I pull out some images of analog and digital clocks.
Kid: “Oh my gosh don’t even ask me this, I am an EXPERT on clocks. I know everything. I know the most about clocks.”
Me: “Ok, great! But let’s just double check.” <show a digital clock that says 7:30>
Kid: “Seventy-three o’clock.” (leans back, crosses arms, nods smugly) “I told you I’m the best at clocks.”
So…no, Trump Jr. You are very very bad at clocks.

(Part of the Ebola Mom series)

Mom (whispering before kid enters room): “So…[kid] didn’t get to do the homework you left him last week because he was so upset about the election results, he could barely do anything for days.”
Me: “Oh my gosh that’s terrible and so sad! It’s honestly so painful and disturbing to me that a kid his age would be so affected by this. The whole thing is just so awful. Obviously don’t worry about the homework, I completely understand.”
Mom: “Thank you, I knew you would.”
(Mom leaves, kid enters)
Me: “So like I just told your mom, don’t worry about the homework. I completely understand that you were upset about the election.”
Kid: “What election?”

Kid: “My dad doesn’t even want to vote. He thinks his vote doesn’t matter.”
Me: “Really? I think every vote matters!”
Kid: “If he votes he’s going to vote for Jill Stein.”
Oh, so he’s CHOOSING to not matter.
Got it.


Me: “Do you know the name of the bird in the picture?”
Kid: “No.”
Me: “Ok, let’s try chunking the word to make it easier to sound out. You’ll see that when you break up the word, it isn’t so big and scary. It’s all smaller words you can figure out and then blend together.” (covering up end of word) “Try saying this first part alone.”
Kid (concentrating very hard): “C-O-CK…C-ooooock…C-OCK!! COCK! COCK!!!”
Me: “That’s right! Cock!”
And that’s when her dad walked in.
