The Pony usually plods through the school day like a little workhorse. He keeps a tight rein on his emotions. Turns in his assignments and pulls out a book to pass the time. But yesterday, he pranced into my classroom in high spirits. His algebra class had been given a project that allowed him to kick up his heels.
I'd already gotten wind of this project from a class after lunch. A little gal told me that she was partnered with The Pony for this endeavor. "I had the best time! He is so funny! And I really like his voice." I'm thinking she's more excited about getting a partner who will actually share in the work. They are both little smarties, and neither will be covering for a slacker whose grade will benefit.
It seems that the lesson is on probability. The students drew lots and were assigned districts for their very own Hunger Games. Oh, don't worry. I don't think they will be murdering each other in a fight to the death. But they WILL be creating costumes befitting the specialization of their district. The Pony was absolutely jumping over the moon in his excitement to have drawn District 1, which produces luxury items. He and his partner have already made themselves golden crowns. In fact, some girl whose name he does not know (THIS IS THE NEXT-TO-LAST WEEK OF SCHOOL!) commented that with his crown on, The Pony looked like a Greek god. Yeah. His mane has finally grown out from that sheep-shearing haircut I made him get, and is starting to curl.
The Pony's partner is getting the gems they need for Monday. We stopped by the Dollar Tree to see if we could find some silver ribbon. We did. And some gold and silver beads. And some kind of silver strand with stars on it. And gold crepe paper. The Pony had been texting his partner all morning.
"What should I tell her we got?"
"Put that stuff on the seat and text her a picture."
"No. My phone is messed up and doesn't send pictures very well."
"Then look in the bag and list it."
"She wants to know what CREEP PAPER is."
"CRAPE. It's pronounced CRAPE. For future reference. Who'd want to buy something called CREEP PAPER?"
"I know. It sounds creepy."
The demise of each contestant will be determined randomly. Like the roll of the dice. Or, since we're all proper and don't want to promote gambling in the public schools, NUMBER CUBES.
May the odds be ever in his favor.
I've heard those devilish devices, dice, called "number generators" as well.
ReplyDeleteBeing politically correct is a #itch.
Sounds like the odds are in his favor as long as District Mom continues to supply his Creep Paper needs. They won't have to kiss for the class, will they?
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteYou ain't a-woofin'!
******
Tammy,
As far as I know, kissing ain't allowed in school. However...Hick reported that The Pony spent all evening at the auction "texting some little girl." There is only a week of school left. I suspect this fledgling hot and heavy romance will cool and lighten once summer break begins.
Creep Paper is befitting the skewed outlook of The Pony. When he was just a tiny lad, he stated quietly from his child seat, upon viewing a hawk circling a cow pasture: "Hawks eat mice. Little sooooooft mice." Yeah. The creep factor is strong in that one.