“Miss F, I have something for you.”
My favorite student waltzed into my classroom with a holiday package bursting with waftiness of yumminess. She didn’t have to tell me what she had brought. I knew…I knew. My olfactory senses had zoned in on that smell of scrumptiousness as soon as it breached the perimeter of the campus.
(Please note: Favoriteness of students is directly proportional to how happy they are making me at the time. Bringing me gifts greatly increases chances of becoming the favorite.)
It’s Finals Week and good students are diligently studying.
Smart students are thinking of how they can bribe the teacher for mercy.
This kid is brilliant.
She plopped a plate on my desk full of gooey goodness on a bun, still warm from her mother’s kitchen. Ham rolls, she calls them. I just call them Kryptonite.
“It’s from my momma,” she said.
“Please give me an A,” I heard.
Then I’m pretty sure my eyes glazed over as I devoured the contents of that plate.
When I came to and regained my dignity, I did what no other self-respecting history teacher would ever do…I whipped out a study sheet for the final faster than you can say, “Ham Rolls make me do unthinkable things…”