Horseteeth

There's a student in my second hour block...let's called him Alan*.  Alan has a tendency to shut down when faced with a task.  Especially language arts tasks....

This is what my class sounds like to him:
Me:   "Write a dialogue about how the color orange talks to the color blue!"  
Him:  "Um....no..."

Today, he was facing the daunting task of the Seedfolks writing assessment; write the next chapter in the book, either using an already established character, or him/herself as a character.  (The stories my classes have been coming up with are amazing.  I feel like I'm just facilitating a creative writing class at a university.  I'm honestly terrified that I will have nothing to teach my brilliant authors.)  However, Alan doesn't find this task so easy or inspiring.  He's had a blank writer's notebook for three days now.  

Until.  Today.

I had him at the table in the front of the room with me, along with two other students afflicted with writer's block.  One student got his idea rolling, and the student next to him was adding on details to her already budding chapter.  Alan sat there with his usual pout, counting down the seconds until class was over.

"Ok, are you going to use yourself or an already established character?"
"I dunno." 
"Alrighty, we're going to use you.  So, you're in Cleveland.  Why are you in Cleveland?"
Shrug.
"Ok, you moved there.  Who did you go with?  Your family?  Your friends?"
Another student at the table chimes in, "all by himself."
"All alone.  All alone except for your pet cat.   Poor kitty.  What's the kitty's name?"
Shrug.
I meow.  In my best feline voice:  "Alan...meow...what's my name?"
A long pause ensues.  

I was awaiting the next inevitable shrug.  But instead: "Horseteeth."
I rolled with it right away, like he had suggested the name Fluffy, "OK, Horseteeth-- is Horseteeth hungry?"
That cracked him.  He was giggling, even though he was trying to hide it behind his hands.  "That sounds so funny."
"What, Horseteeth?"  He, and the other two students at the table, were giggling uncontrollably at this point.  I drew a quick cartoon of what I imagined Horseteeth looking like.  This, of course, just fueled the giggle fire.  
"Ok," I say, "Horseteeth is hungry.  Where do you go to get food?"
Between giggles, Alan answers, "down to the pet food store."
"Neat, which character in the book do you run into there?"
"Oh, Virgil.  He's buying food..."
"Ah, for his pet donkey!" I suggest.
"He had a pet donkey?"
"No, but you're the author now, you can make him have a donkey."
Before he left for the day, he had a smile on his face and agreed to working on his piece at home.  It was the highlight of my day.  

Story number two: third block, my squirmiest class.  In the midst of a great discussion about our latest chapter in the book, Norman* raised his hand.  He has this habit of asking a series of questions, and prefacing it by giving me an outline of his questions to come, "I have three questions.  Firstly..."
His third question he admitted wasn't even a question.  "You look like an old-school school teacher, ready to whip the back of our hands."  The class erupted in laughter.  Let me explain.  I have some sweet new Prada classes, in a style that I believe my grandma also had...in 1954...  I was wearing a fitted, short-sleeve, white, crew-neck sweater and a knee-length black skirt, complete with black and white striped peep-toe pumps.  I was carrying around a metal rod from one of my older-model filing cabinets (the piece that helps unlock the door...which explains why I can't get into it, and why there's a strange odor which emits from the drawer above...)  I was using the metal rod as a pointer to point to a chart on my back wall which displays all of the editing marks we use in writing.  Could I get  any more old-school?  It was true though.  I noticed that students would flinch when I would circulate around the class room.   

I hope you've enjoyed my stories.   

*All student names have been changed