love is a crying baby mama warned you not to shake

vignettes:

Sixth grade: High pitched screaming was emanating from the sixth grade classroom, clearly audible some distance down the corridor. I quickened my pace, and arrived to find most of the girls in the class congregated around a small area of carpeting, screaming, pointing, and pouring water on the offending patch of textile (the boys in the class had taken this opportunity to engage in their favorite activity, to wit, running around like maniacs and propelling themselves off of walls, desks, and each other). I tried, and failed, to get the students' attention; no go, they couldn't hear me over the din. Finally, I ended up bellowing "STOP...NOW!!! WHAT THE...HECK...IS GOING ON?!?!" The scandalous application of the word "heck" was enough to quell them. Meekly, one admitted that Anne had a tick on her, which they had now killed. I picked up the remains of a large, soggy, and eminently non-tick-like beetle, disposed of same, and had them do a few deep breathing exercises before we started spelling...

Seventh grade: The assignment was to create a limerick. Most of the kids were unclear on the concept. I give a few more examples, noting again that the first, second, and fifth lines have three beats, the third and fourth have two...finally, one boy has an epiphany. "Miss P! Is this a good start for a limerick?" "Let me hear it." "There was a young man from L.A. / And all his friends thought he was gay..." "That is, indeed, a good start. However, I can't see it leading anywhere appropriate, so let's just not finish that one, hmmm?"