In case I needed a reminder of the whimsy of sixth graders, a student walked into class yesterday with a stuffed monkey in her pocket. I wouldn't have known, but for the fact that she made it peek out and talk to a friend across the room. "Why don't you go put that in your locker?" I suggested firmly, "So that it doesn't become more of a distraction."
"No! Please!" she cried, "I won't take it out again."
"How about I put it on my desk for the rest of class?" I offered and she agreed. As she handed the stuffie to me, I flipped it over to take a look at it. I held in my hand an 8-inch monkey wearing pink and blue pajamas.
"That's child abuse!" she said. "You made the baby's head shake."
"This 'baby's' pajamas are filthy," I responded. "That's neglect."
"It was her fault!" she pointed to the friend across the room. "You were supposed to keep the baby clean."
I shrugged. "Listen, ladies," I advised them. "Do your work today--" I met both of their eyes, "or the monkey gets it!"
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