What's Your Special Place?

Each morning, I give my class a discussion question during "Morning Meeting". This gives them an opportunity to talk about something with friends before the business of the academic day begins. This is a great plan; however, my class thinks talking and poking each other is much more important than actually LEARNING anything remotely useful all day long (how to multiply or spell "science" for example). Therefore, talking is probably the least constructive thing to do in a Morning Meeting. But I digress...

A week or so ago, I provided this ice breaker for discussion - what's your special place? This was meant to be a tried and true "getting to know you" question that was sure to elicit touching ideas by Bug Tussle's young folk. But, I should have known that answers like "the oak tree in our backyard" or "my Grandmother's kitchen" weren't about to fall from the mouths of these Mountain Dew-swilling babes. Instead, I overhead this gem that I knew MUST BE SHARED. Because it is an impeccable example of Southernly Speaking, if a slightly trashy one.

As I circulated the classroom, I listened to students hem and haw about loving to go to their barn or their Dad's work. And then I honed in on this unbelievable confession. Two young men who can best be described as "Bubbas" were deep in conversation when one confessed his special place and stopped me in my Sperryed tracks.

Bubba 1: "My special place is Hooters. It's a real nice place."

Bubba 2: "Yeah, I think I hearda that place. Do they have clothes there?"

Bubba 1: "Uh huh. It's a real nice place to eat. But yeah - they got clothes there too. Real nice ones. My
                  dad gets his shirts there and we eat there. It's REAL nice."

I'm sure there was more to this exchange, but at this point I had to remove myself from the vicinity before collapsing in a fit of guffaws. Visions of neon orange owls with enlarged eyes danced in my head and the scent of wing sauce and stale beer filled my nostrils. Though I must admit I have - in fact- (semi) willingly eaten at this establishment, I would not go so far as to call it a "nice place". I can honestly say that I went FOR THE WINGS, and not for the scenery. Although in Bug Tussle I suppose that any eatery that decorates in varnished lumber and hunting orange would rate high on the Zagat scale.

So the next time JP asks to take me to a "special place", I may have a new request. When in Rome and all that... I am, after all a "champagne taste on a beer budget" type of girl. And who can say no to clothing and food in one real nice place?!

XO,