A first-grade teacher can’t believe her student isn’t excited about the Super Bowl. “It’s a huge event. Why aren’t you excited?”
“Because I’m not a football fan. My parents love basketball, so I do too,” says the student.
“Well, that’s a lousy reason,” says the teacher. “What if your parents were dumb fools? What would you be then?”
“Then I’d be a football fan.”
A mother complained to my wife, a schoolteacher, that other students were stealing her daughter’s pencils.
“It’s not the money, it’s the principle,” she insisted. “My husband took those pencils from work.”
I don’t want to brag or make anybody jealous or anything, but I can still fit into the earrings I wore in high school.
I’m now in high school, so when I ran into my third-grade teacher, I doubted she would remember me.
“Hi, Miss Butcher,” I said.
“Hi, Eddie,” she replied.
“So you do remember me?” I asked.
“Sure. You don’t always leave a good impression, but you definitely leave a lasting one.”