My favorite story from last week involves a sixth grade student, who we'll call Milton, whose family is from Bangladesh, but he grew up in New York. Milton's Bangla skills are pretty minimal, he spoke it at home, but is not the most fluent. Last week, a ninth grade student, who we'll call Obama (because he's the class president), came to me because Milton was inadvertently calling another student the Bangla equivalent of the F-word (the queen mother of all swearwords). Milton, who is really just the sweetest boy, had thought he was calling him a chicken. He was somewhat embarrassed, but mostly laughed it off. The bonus of the story is that I
Also, my library got cushions last week.
|The only appropriate way to place them in the reading corner is to throw them.|