Extra Juicy

J left Culinary Arts and came to my classroom:
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J: I just got finished cookin’ Mr. C.
Mr. C: Oh yeah? What did you cook?
J: Porkchops.
Mr. C: Okay. How did they turn out?
J: They gave me a 10 because they were extra juicy.
Mr. C: Uh uh.
J: You know what I mean Mr. C?
Mr. C: You’re talking to the wrong person about this, but I understand.
J: You know you used to eat things juicy when you ate meat.
Mr. C: No actually I really didn’t.
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Fridays…

2nd block with my 8th graders:

3 of my students have not finished their work and therefore I did not let them cook with us today.
2 of them got mad about this.
They tried to leave the classroom and I would not let them.
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K: Can I go to the bathroom?
Mr. C: Do one question, and I will let you go. You haven’t done any work.
(K pushes their stuff off the desk and pushes the desk)
K: Nah fuck that I’m leavin’.
(walks out the door)
As I’m writing them up, another students curses and walks over to me.
R: How you gon’ write her up for not doing nothin’?
Mr.C: Mind your business.
R: Don’t tell me what to do. You don’t tell us what to do. I’ll get the principal.
Mr. C: We can get the principal, and ‘Ill tell them how you’ve been acting.
R: I don’t give a shit about no principal.
Mr. C: Apparently.
(K walks back in)
K: And don’t even think about tryin’ to write me up for LDA.
Mr. C: I did write you up.
K: Fuck you.
Mr. C: Okay.
K: Fuck you, fuck this school and fuck this work you just gave me. Fuck your skinny ass, ugly as hell.
Mr. C: Well I’m ugly, what can I do about it?
K: Fuck you.
(The Educational Assistant walks in and I explain the situation and they take them both to ISS.)
K: Fuck this school.
(kicks a chair)
Mr. C: See you guys next Monday.
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Tampon Pans

9th graders:
I ask one of my students to get a plastic spatula.
They walk by with a metal spatula.
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Mr. C: No, no metal spatulas.
L: Why?
Mr. C: Because metal on metal is bad. These are Teflon pans, and the metal will scratch off the Teflon coating.
L: Tampon?
Mr. C: No I said Teflon.
N: Oh I thought he said tampon pans.
Mr. C: No, and that doesn’t even make sense. Tampon pans? Really?
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