And then, one afternoon as the teacher leaned against his desk, one of these buttons failed. It shot off his shirt, soaring over the heads of the astonished students, and landing somewhere in the back of the room.
It was a wardrobe malfunction only to be trumped by Janet Jackson’s tassels some 10 years later. And you can bet every kid in the school couldn’t wait to share the story with their parents that night at dinner.
It makes me wonder what wonderful tidbits the parents of my students know about me. Despite having a good group, I doubt my students go home and share stories of an excellent lesson plan or in-depth group discussion with their parents. Most likely, they know of a time when I inadvertently taught class with my fly down, or a day when I had a cold and sneezed enough times to get a nosebleed.
This is the reason why Open House intimidates me so much.
I don’t have a problem speaking in front of people, or even discussing a child’s progress with a parent. I’m uncomfortable with the fact they know something about me, but I have no idea what it may be (or in what way it may have been taken out of context). It’s like playing poker with your hand facing out. Everyone can see your cards but you.
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