We're teaching personal narrative to begin the year, and so some of my fellow teachers asked to use a little memoir I wrote a few years ago as a mentor text. It's the humorous tale of a baby-sitting job gone wrong, and my students usually enjoy it when I read it to them. Still, I was not prepared for the reaction I received when yesterday afternoon I was introduced to a group of sixth graders in Heidi's special education social skills class who I do not teach.
"I know you!" one of them said. "You're Ms. B's friend, and I read your story!"
"That's right," I laughed. "What did you think?"
"Those kids were bad!" she said, "And you were funny!"
Her friend was listening to the conversation. "Hey, Tracey!" she said, and the assistant who works with her whipped his head around in shock at hearing her use my first name.
"It's okay," I said, "that's my name in the story."
"Did you ever babysit them again?" she asked me.
"Nope," I told her. "I sure did not."
Just then another of their classmates pulled a wrinkled set of pages from his book bag. Sure enough, it was my story. "I'll read it to you!" he said. "It's really funny!"
Aw, shucks.
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