Several days ago I encountered a section of a black bra strap lying in the front of my class room. I methodically picked it up and walked it to the trash, flashing a raised eyebrow at the young ladies in front. They shrugged and giggled, speechless.
Perhaps I need to work on my class management.
Then yesterday, I was pushing the envelope a bit while trying to get the kids to write introductions and conclusions with a strong sense of voice. As usual, I read a self-selected sample of my own: “How to Be a Red Pen.” (We’re writing “how to be” essays, working on the traits of ideas, organization, and voice.) A sentence in my conclusion read as follows:
The life of a red pen is a life of purpose. But it’s a tough job, and most don’t have the ball point to do it. Pencil pushing wimps and water color wussies: stay in your box at the craft store.
Heh heh. I thought that was pretty dang clever, if not a bit envelope pushing (may as well stick with the office supply theme). A profound pun, consistent with the voice and demeanor of my narrator, the red pen. And just enough plausible deniability.
