Okay, if the kid had been older I would have written him a detention for being inappropriate and a smart ass, but he was just an earnestly ignorant eighth grader. He really didn’t mean anything so I all I could do was shake my head and wave him off to class.
.......
He’s a frequent flyer in my office so he’s noticed that my left-handed handwriting is improving. After weeks with my right hand useless, my left hand is adapting rather nicely. It has developed, through slow and annoying necessary practice, the skill to write quite legiblely. Hell, my left-handed writing is actually better now than at least half of the boys writing with their dominant hands.
“Wow, Ms. Mack. You can write with both hands now.”
He was much impressed. “That is so cool.”
“Why thank you.” It seemed the polite thing to say in response.
“There’s a word for that.”
Yes, there is, but I held my tongue. Let the boy get there on his own.
“Hang on. Hang on. I know the word.”
Come on baby, I pulled for the boy silently.
You get this one at your tender age and I will be very proud of you.
Yep, St. Rapp’s is doing right by our boys and you’re a great example of our precocious young scholars, I pre-gloated.
“I got it,” he beamed as he declared loud and proud enough to be heard in the hallway.
“Do you enjoy being bi, Ms. Mack?”
Yes, yes. That’s the superior St. Rapp’s education all right.
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