My favorite class is small and friendly.  They treat me like a person and a teacher–a combination I can’t resist.  They aren’t perfect by any means, and there are some “bad seeds” but overall, when they leave, I don’t feel like tearing my hair out–quite an accomplishment.

They are the class that on the first day looked at me and asked, “How OLD are you?”

My answer of 25 allowed them to sigh a breath of relief.

“I thought you were, like, a high school student!”

Today, they were badgering me on what kind of music I listen to.  I hate this question no matter who is asking because I never know what to say.  I like songs that have good lyrics never seems to be a good enough answer for people.  I tried to change the subject, they got more specific.

“Like, when you’re in your car driving–what are you listening to?”
“A mix,” I said.

“A mix of what?” they demanded.

I told them my somewhat truthful, somewhat exaggerated answer.  Their mouths hung open and they were silent.  It was, by far, the perfect reaction.  And I discovered the perfect answer to the music question–an answer that will shut people up–because they just will not know what to say.

“Civil War music.”

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