So I returned to my classroom to find a container of chocolate mousse on my desk from four of my 8th grade students. They left a big long note, using 5 yellow sticky notes to say:
- To Baby C (that is my nickname and I honestly have NO idea how I got it.)
- P.S.–Sofy and Pam say it’s REALLY good. And sorry for the tiny spoon. And Alvy coughed on your pen. We have a question for you later, k?–Sofy
- P.S.S. It smells YUM (heart) Cass
- P.S.S.S. Sorry for your sticky notes! Kiss, Pam
- Is it P.P.S. or P.S.S.?
Frankly, I don’t care if it’s eleven Ps and seventy-nine Ss and has Ls in the mix. My students left me a container of chocolate mousse. Part of me thinks they’ve left me this container of chocolate mousse to numb the shock of whatever question they’re about to ask me, in which case I can only tell them, after wiping the chocolate from my face and as I gaze at them from behind a drunken glow, that if they really want a good answer they’ll have to talk to me when I come down from my chocolate high.