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First time visiting Dead Class Pets?

If so, you should know that the controversy over who was or was not the Killer of Class Pets has yet to be resolved.  And by that I mean that it was definitely my husband, Nate, who did the dirty deed of killing our class fish, but that I provided the weapon and basically framed him.

I briefly considered calling this blog, "It Was All Nate's Fault," but for the sake of marital bliss have opted for the non-accusatory, matter-of-fact, Dead Class Pets.  It simply states that the pets are, in fact, dead, but doesn't point the finger at anyone in particular.

By now I fear I've incorrectly led you to believe that this blog revolves around a combination of deceased animals and long-standing feuds with my husband.  Actually--neither of those things feature prominently in posts.

What Dead Class Pets does feature is anecdotes from my life as an elementary school teacher in Louisiana and in Washington, D.C.  I am a collector of intercepted love notes and a facilitator of second grade dictatorship scenarios.

I correct children when they mistakenly use the word "tampons" to mean "tadpoles" and occasionally get fashion advice from them, too.

Here, you'll get tips from eight-year-olds on how to have a successful marriage.  Dead Class Pets will keep you current on things that third graders think are really hilarious.  Spoiler alert: It's pretty much always Fake-Picking One's Nose.  The stories in this blog celebrate the quirkiness of childhood and the lighthearted moments of elementary school.  They come from one of the classrooms over my past ten years of teaching.  Students' names have been changed.

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