Upset stomach, indigestion...
I was handing out a pink sheet of paper and told my students, "It looks like Pepto-Bismol."
Then I asked them the lyrics to the famous add campaign:
I couldn't remember it correctly, so I decided to change the lyrics to: upset stomach, indigestion, real bad farts, and diarrhea. I started laughing hysterically at myself. My students said, "Those aren't the words."
"I know. I like my version better!" So, I sang it again. "Upset stomach, indigestion, real bad farts, and diarreah!"
At this point, I'm poised to fall off my rolling-teacher-chair-of-importance. I clutched onto the back, perching, and I sang it again and again, and at this point, my students have no clue what to do with me, so they laugh with me. Or at me. I know they weren't laughing at me in the cruel mocking way someone tells you, "Oh, I'm not laughing with you, I'm laughing at you." Instead, I think they were laughing at my laughing. They thought it was too funny that my face was bright red.
"Mr. Williams! Your face is so red!"
"Breathe, Mr. Williams! BREATHE!"
"He's gonna BLOW!"
At this point, they started lurching forward under their desks.
"Get the extra oxygen tank!" One of them screamed from below. "Put the mask on him!"
At this point, I was holding onto the back of my chair for dear life, sucking in air, as I tilted my head back and lilted my sonic boom laughter.
It took me a while to get class back under control after that.
Then I asked them the lyrics to the famous add campaign:
I couldn't remember it correctly, so I decided to change the lyrics to: upset stomach, indigestion, real bad farts, and diarrhea. I started laughing hysterically at myself. My students said, "Those aren't the words."
"I know. I like my version better!" So, I sang it again. "Upset stomach, indigestion, real bad farts, and diarreah!"
At this point, I'm poised to fall off my rolling-teacher-chair-of-importance. I clutched onto the back, perching, and I sang it again and again, and at this point, my students have no clue what to do with me, so they laugh with me. Or at me. I know they weren't laughing at me in the cruel mocking way someone tells you, "Oh, I'm not laughing with you, I'm laughing at you." Instead, I think they were laughing at my laughing. They thought it was too funny that my face was bright red.
"Mr. Williams! Your face is so red!"
"Breathe, Mr. Williams! BREATHE!"
"He's gonna BLOW!"
At this point, they started lurching forward under their desks.
"Get the extra oxygen tank!" One of them screamed from below. "Put the mask on him!"
At this point, I was holding onto the back of my chair for dear life, sucking in air, as I tilted my head back and lilted my sonic boom laughter.
It took me a while to get class back under control after that.
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