More than a decade ago, as I recited last-minute reminders to my 8th grade Pre-AP Algebra 1 class, one of my female students asked me if I was married. The classroom fell silent and all eyes were on me. Awkward!
"I'm married to all of you," I said, as the bell finally rang.
Well, that was a slip. I had meant to say "I am married to my job," but somehow I said it the way I did.
I didn't bother to scour their faces for any reaction, but I did hear Diego, the class clown, say it loud in a sing-song manner, "My teacher is a perveeert," and as soon as he got my attention, he ran away, saying, "See ya tomorrow, Mr. Jope."
Time passed by, and now it was time to gear up for the state end-of-course Algebra 1 exam. Just a couple more days before testing, Diego had more energy than usual, and he did manage to get on my nerves. I made sure that he knew that I did not appreciate his behavior. At the end of the period the boy apologized to me. He said he'll never do it again.
"I accept your apology, Diego."
I thought I had said enough, but to my surprise, he looked more worried than I thought.
"We're still married, right?," he asked, partly joking.
Until that day, I didn't know that the boy's parents' marriage had recently crumbled. Apparently, our "marriage" was important to him.
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