ALIEN TEACHER HAHA NOPE
Do I want to say what I’m thinking? Probably not. This a cliché, even if you deny it. It is. It just is. I don’t like it. I don’t want to write about this.
My teacher in grade 3 had a really great method in teaching us this type of writing that I can’t think of right now. It’s a how-to structure. She dressed up as an alien and made us teach her how to make a peanut butter sandwich. She made us describe the steps so descriptively that it was ridiculous. I told her to “spread the peanut butter”, because clearly, that’s what you do when you want a peanut butter sandwich. You spread the peanut butter on the bread. I didn’t know that I was supposed to tell her to use a knife and spread it on bread. She spread the peanut butter on her shoe. She ruined her shoe for the sake of a lesson. I can’t tell if she was dedicated or crazy.
The same teacher also taught spelling in a strange way. Every Wednesday, she would pretend to leave the classroom and come back as her cousin or alter-ego or something. This cousin came straight from the old-fashioned days. When we did spelling tests, we would have to stand up, say the word we were spelling, spell it, say it again, and sit down. It kept us quiet. If we didn’t follow her instructions, she would discipline us like an old-time teacher, too. She discouraged eating and drawing while the test was happening, but I used to stuff zucchini bread in my desk. If anything, it taught me how to be sneakier.
This teacher also used to sing opera really loudly when we spelled “they” with an “a”. What a time. Grade 3 was a great year.