And that was it. The entire content of the note.
By the time the whole third grade day had run its course and I checked my mailbox on the way out the door, I had long forgotten whatever context might have surrounded this supplication. The situation was clearly dire enough to merit a note, but I had no idea about what I was being so wholeheartedly begged. I sensed that this "ples" was the two-syllable kind (puh-LEES), but all context beyond a generalized desperation had been lost among the various situations that needed re-directing throughout the day, questions that needed answering, math groups that needed teaching, and Time Outs that needed Outing.
Today I found another such note tucked in the back of the mailbox.
Hmmm.
Opening with "But Ms. Sara" made the note seem rather mid-conversation. I just had no recollection of my role in this conversation.
Was this a student looking for a little recognition of an anatomically impressive feat?
Someone sharing an ocular curiosity?
As an experienced reader of minds, my best guess is that the anonymous author found terribly unjust my expectation for him or her look at the lesson during class. Full-on. Whole eyeball. When really, as I suspect the note writer is proposing, a "tip of my eye" gaze is sufficient.
But if anyone out there has any thoughts on what action I'm supposed to take in regards to these two notes, just jot it down and leave it in my mailbox.
3 comments:
I think the action you're supposed to take is to use them in a humorous blog post. So, done!
I agree with Nate, I think you took the best action of all! :D I liked your description of yourself as "an experienced reader of minds"!!
We have hearing that is more precise than the most astute bloodhound. We can read minds. We see behind us, beside us and sometimes through the wall into the hall. Teachers possess the most amazing of skills. Scientists should study us.
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