A Day In The Life Of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, Teacher Woman

I handed out the assignments this morning, in the regular way. I walked across the front of the room, counted out papers for each of the seven rows, and handed them to the first person in the row to pass back. The most people in any row is seven. Some have only two or three. As you can see, those are not big numbers. Nothing like counting out a quadrillion or a sextillion (heh, heh, I said sextillion).

Of course a girl at the end of a row lamented that she had not received a paper. A lad piped up with, "You can't count!" My daily audience, it seems, is rife with hecklers.

"Well. Aren't you quick to jump on the Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is Incompetent bandwagon!"

"I love bandwagons."

For the record, to exonerate my maligned counting skills, the paper was found just where my teacher's intuition predicted. On the desk of the boy who sits in front of her.

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You know students from the honors chemistry class are passing by your classroom when you hear the following exchange amongst friends:

"The ratio of my height to your height is probably the same as your height to a little person."

"Yeah! You would be a GIANT little person!"

I'm not on the math end of the hall, so I know it's the honors chem students.
The regular, everyday, basic chem students would have simply said, "You're short!"

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To top off my questionable quotes trilogy, I bring you the rare, uncrackable, mother-tongue code-talking of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.

"I don't get how a rocket blasting off is an example of Newton's Third Law."

"The burning column of gases pushes against the rocket as it escapes. And in turn, the rocket pushes against the burning column of gases and is launched. It's action-reaction."

"You're saying words I can't write down!"

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Thank you. I'll be here all year.