Never serve bananas in junior high

Here is a "rerun" of a previous entry:


Anyone who has ever taught junior high school knows that there are certain irrefutable axioms. Among them, for obvious reasons, is the fast rule: Never serve bananas in junior high. If that isn’t obvious to you, then you have not been exposed to the unbridled creativity of the young adolescent male.

Teachers of junior high know that if there is a remote chance that something can be taken in more than one way, junior high kids have highly developed radar that hones in on the one that is suggestive. Like careful drivers who keep their eyes on other drivers, junior high teachers must teach defensively. The “traps” are many and often subtle. Forewarned is forearmed.

The pitfalls are particularly plentiful for the English teacher. They can appear in a grammar exercise, a word usage passage, in literature, and in students’ writings.

Some traps are as obvious as teaching the difference between the words “lie” and “lay.” Sometimes, though, they can sneak up on you in the middle of an exercise. Smart teachers read ahead so they will not be surprised by “Jim, let’s you and (I, me) grab our rods and go to the old fishing hole.”

Teachers must carefully navigate literary waters. Keep the boat (or “frigate” as Emily Dickinson terms it) safe from hiding rocks and treacherous shoals. Be prepared for every occurrence of the words “queer” and “gay”. (“My little horse must think it queer/to stop without a farmhouse near”)

Shakespeare, who is genuinely bawdy, is usually safe because, as a former principal actually told me, the students don’t understand it anyway. It was a joy working for such an enlightened leader.

That gets into the whole subject of words that mean something different today than they did when the author wrote the literary work. Edgar Allan Poe was a master at short story writing, and one piece that is taught frequently is “The Cask of Amontillado.” At the height of the action, Poe gives us this dialog:

"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.
"True," I replied; "the Amontillado."

The wise teacher reserves that section for “silent reading.”

A wonderful story is Charles Dickens’ “Oliver Twist.” As in all of Dickens’ stories, the characters are well drawn and memorable. Sometimes, though, you may wish that he withheld at least some information about some of the characters — like their names, for example. When Oliver sets out with two companions to learn the life of the London streets, Dickens gives us this:

“The three boys sallied out; the Dodger with his coat-sleeves tucked up, and his hat cocked, as usual; Master Bates sauntering along with his hands in his pockets; and Oliver between them, wondering where they were going, and what branch of manufacture he would be instructed in, first.”

If you ever find yourself teaching at a junior high, keep alert. Sometimes things can happen purely by chance. Be prepared. Two examples should suffice:
One was described to me by a colleague.

In those early days, technology was rudimentary, and the film strip was quite popular. As my colleague related it, he was observing one student threading the projector, and he looked to see that it was properly aligned. Without looking at the screen, he asked a student to begin reading what was projected. The student responded with a rather rude comment. Startled, my colleague looked toward the offending student and then at the screen. The film had been placed in backwards, and the student was reading the word “Focus.”

Finally, I remember receiving a well-written composition from a student that concerned the life of an octopus. Quite innocently the student changed the anatomy of the octopus. Instead of 8 tentacles this virile specimen sported 8 testicles! What to do? Circle the word once, write “wrong word” over it, and move on!

©2010, 2012