“I adopted a kid and he sent me a picture!”
“…I’m, sorry, what?”
It was way too early in the morning for my student to be dropping a bomb like that.
“I adopted a little boy!” she repeated.
“I’m pretty sure you have to be at least 18 for that. Also…out of high school.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I adopted him at the bookstore.”
“At the bookstore? They adopt kids there now?”
She sighed the long-suffering sigh all teens use when dealing with their dense and unimaginative elders.
“No, I was at the register, and there was this picture of this little starving boy in Africa somewhere, and the dude told me that if I adopted this little boy, then I would get this really cool cup that flashes. Only, I put it in the dishwasher, so now it doesn’t flash anymore. But that’s ok, because it was going on this weird flashy spazz-out, and I think it’s possessed.”
A classmate chimed in, “You know that money is never going to get to that little boy, right? It’s a scam.”
“It’s not a scam! My kid is for legit! He lives in Zanzania in Africa or somewhere!”
I blinked. “…Please don’t ever tell anyone I’m your history teacher.”
She looked uncertain. “Isn’t Zanzania in Africa? …it’s in South America, isn’t it.”
I just looked at her.
“But he sent me a picture,” she said.
The ever-helpful classmate: “That picture was probably drawn by some 47 year old man in a cubicle somewhere.”
That was my cue.
After much laughter, heckling, indignation, and reassurance that yes, she probably did find the one “Feed the Starving Children” program that was not a scam, and that the money she paid for the “adoption” and the possessed flashing cup really did go to the little boy in…Zanzania…she looked at me with resignation in her eyes.
“You’re going to blog about this, aren’t you.”
“Oh, most definitely.”