Today was our annual third grade reading day. For me it's always one of the highlights of the school year as students wear their pajamas and bring along their pillows and sleeping bags to read in a relaxing environment. I like it because it allows me to roll out of bed, put on some slippers, eat coffee and donuts all day, and catch up on some reading that doesn't feature Elmo or page after page of rhyming lines ("I see a nose on every face. I see noses every place."). In my class this year I have one of my all-time favorite students. He's a phenomenal little guy that could possibly be the smartest person I know. His reading level is on par with a high school sophomore and he can vividly share events surrounding the 1939 blitzkrieg in Poland. Um, I had to Google the word "blitzkrieg" to even figure out what it meant. The best thing about him is that he's always smiling. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if it's even possible for his mouth to change shape. Today students were scattered throughout the room reading Harry Potter books or some of my Thanksgiving books, but not this particular young man. Instead he brought along his personal copy of Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary from home. I watched as he flipped to the start of the "G" section. "I've already read all of the words from the first six letters," he informed me. Throughout the day, he'd pop up at my desk to quiz me on some words he came across.
"Mr. Ritchason, what color is garganey?" (a blend of teal)
"Mr. Ritchason, do you know what a gendarme is?" (a French policeman or soldier)
"Mr. Ritchason, what does it mean if someone is glabrous?" (smooth or hairless)
Finally, as we were getting ready to pack up for the day he asked me one final question. "Mr. Ritchason, do you know what gombroon is?" I admitted that yet again I wasn't familiar with that word. "It's a type of Middle Eastern pottery," he reminded me. Without a hint of arrogance or disrespect, he added "You know Mr. Ritchason, you're not really as smart as I once thought you were." I just laughed because it's hard to take things personally from a 9-year old that still wears one-piece Scooby Doo footsie pajamas.
Disclaimer: This blog will not help manage your stock portfolio, provide daily inspirational quotes, show you where to find the cheapest gas, point you to naked photos of Helen Mirren, rant against the political process, give you step-by-step directions on how to spay or neuter your pets on the kitchen table, help you find a job, teach you how to write in calligraphy, tell you who Lindsay Lohan is sleeping with, give you tips on how to save the environment, show you how to mix the perfect mojito, or provide home remedies for hemorrhoids. Rather it's just a collection of amusing stories about my family, my third graders, and the seemingly insane people I come across on a daily basis.
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