Back in March, I had 50 photos of myself printed. I brought them to school. My plan was to offer autographed photos of myself to my students, saying things like, “Given how much you adore me and how famous I am, an autographed photo of me is just about the best gift you could ever receive.”
It was going to be a glorious prank. I was going to annoy them for weeks with these photographs.
Then I offered my first signed photo to one of my students, along with a smarmy remark.
Her response:
“Wow. Can I have two?”
She didn’t say it sarcastically, but she didn’t say it enthusiastically, either. She split the middle perfectly, making me feel instantly stupid.
“Two?” I asked.
“I’d love one,” said another student.
“Me, too,” said another.
“Thanks a lot,” I said, “You ruined it. Do you know how much I was looking forward to this?”
“No no, no,” another said. “I’d really like one.” His words were sincere, but his smile said something else entirely. The whole damn class was smiling. Asking for a photo that they didn’t want.
I was so mad.
Pulling off a great prank is one thing. Defeating a prank so deftly is another.
For the rest of the year, students would occasionally ask if I’d reconsidered my decision about the autographed photos. “I’m still hoping to get one,” they would say. “I bet they’ll be worth a fortune someday.”
Rotten children.
I was also fond of stealing the children’s snacks and hiding them around the room. If a child had an orange, I would step outside and roll it down the sidewalk, trying to land it in the driveway.
One day a student had three oranges on her desk, with a word written on each.
Once again, by embracing the prank and asking for the prank, she ruined the prank.
I’m one week into my summer vacation, and I miss those kids so much already.
