<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475</id><updated>2011-12-14T19:07:53.981-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ClassroomKlassics</title><subtitle type='html'>Hilarious and true stories from a public school teacher in a major US city.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>137</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-5986944069641720307</id><published>2007-06-13T18:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T18:25:13.919-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BOYS AND GIRLS</title><content type='html'>I was teaching "family life" and being very careful to use the correct terms.  I pointed to a diagram of female breasts and before I could say a word, a loud mouth boy yelled out "I know.  I know. Those are the female breasticles!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-5986944069641720307?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/5986944069641720307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=5986944069641720307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/5986944069641720307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/5986944069641720307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/06/difference-between-boys-and-girls.html' title='THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BOYS AND GIRLS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-6462821362095649241</id><published>2007-06-03T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T16:53:49.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>P</title><content type='html'>My 2nd graders were learning the state capitols.  "Class, can anyone tell me the capitol of Pennsylvania?"  A little girl piped up "It's P!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-6462821362095649241?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/6462821362095649241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=6462821362095649241&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/6462821362095649241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/6462821362095649241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/06/p.html' title='P'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-1608181877523232067</id><published>2007-06-03T14:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T14:31:17.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BABY TALK</title><content type='html'>I was teaching human development to 3rd graders.  One little boy said his Mom just had a baby and she was so cute and tiny - 5 pounds.  Another boy stood up and boasted that HIS MOM had a baby a few months ago and that he weighed ten pounds.  "My," I commented, "that's a big boy!"  He puffed out his chest and said "Yup, My Dad says you only get out of something what you put into it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-1608181877523232067?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/1608181877523232067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=1608181877523232067&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/1608181877523232067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/1608181877523232067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/06/baby-talk.html' title='BABY TALK'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-7475255215370848536</id><published>2007-05-23T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-23T16:49:15.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NOT WHAT I MEANT!</title><content type='html'>I teach art.  My first day of school, I was busy preparing all my materials and the principal came walking in to ask if I needed anything.  He was handsome,  newly single and I felt like a schoolgirl around him.  Anyway, he said "Anything I can do for you?"  I said "Can I get felt?"  There was a pregnant silence with me feeling very foolish and the color creeping up my neck.  After what seemed like an eternity he said that I'd find felt squares in the supplies cabinet and then he got out of there as fast as he could.  I cringe to this day when I think of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-7475255215370848536?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/7475255215370848536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=7475255215370848536&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/7475255215370848536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/7475255215370848536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/05/not-what-i-meant.html' title='NOT WHAT I MEANT!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-6620898453990645492</id><published>2007-05-13T18:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T18:28:02.625-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GLANDS</title><content type='html'>I was teaching nutrition and explaining that another reason people become overweight was because of an underactive thyroid.  A little girl asked "Oh, is that why my THIGHS are so big?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-6620898453990645492?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/6620898453990645492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=6620898453990645492&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/6620898453990645492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/6620898453990645492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/05/glands.html' title='GLANDS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-8599483261776476294</id><published>2007-04-30T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T18:19:15.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DO YOU HAVE ANY FUNNY TEACHING STORIES?</title><content type='html'>Do you have any funny teaching stories? Why not join others, worldwide, who have dared to share? Stories must be true, funny and will remain anonymous to protect the guilty! Simply click "comments" below and then click on "anonymous" to share your tales or write to us at &lt;a href="mailto:classroomklassics@yahoo.com"&gt;classroomklassics@yahoo.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lwf&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-8599483261776476294?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/8599483261776476294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=8599483261776476294&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/8599483261776476294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/8599483261776476294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/04/do-you-have-any-funny-teaching-stories_30.html' title='DO YOU HAVE ANY FUNNY TEACHING STORIES?'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-7653569972808542779</id><published>2007-04-30T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T18:15:24.169-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FIRE!</title><content type='html'>The fire dept. had come to do a safety presentation to a group of 12 and 13 year old boys. The students were very interested and after the presentation they dutifully sat in a semi circle on the ground outside while the fireman pointed out the various and impressive features of the firetruck. All was well until the fireman said "Boys, I want you all to look over here at my hose." One boy leapt to his feet, his face reflected his amazement "Where's a ho? You brought a ho here for real?" he said. My face was as red as the firetruck.  The fireman managed to keep a straight face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-7653569972808542779?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/7653569972808542779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=7653569972808542779&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/7653569972808542779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/7653569972808542779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/04/fire.html' title='FIRE!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-7862077601974640186</id><published>2007-04-30T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T18:09:45.638-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FOOTBALL VS. HISTORY</title><content type='html'>I assigned my 8th graders a research paper that was to be written on a historical event in U.S. History, prior to WWll, that had a significant impact on our nation.  As I was reading off some of the possible events I said, "The Dustbowl."  In the back of the room a young man shouted out "Oh, Oh, Mrs. X!  Who won the Dustbowl?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-7862077601974640186?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/7862077601974640186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=7862077601974640186&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/7862077601974640186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/7862077601974640186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/04/football-vs-history.html' title='FOOTBALL VS. HISTORY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-1837554383045908483</id><published>2007-04-30T18:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T18:05:25.939-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YOU TAKE MY BREATH AWAY</title><content type='html'>I was subbing a special ed class of emotionally disturbed kids, when on e of them, I'll call him Brian, got up and started to wander around the room.  I was told to be stern with him, and not let him wander.  So, I walked over to him, and told him to sit down.  He ignored me, so I got closer to him.  "Sit down," I said.  He stopped wandering, but didn't sit.  I got closer, "Sit down,"  I repeated.  He just looked up at me, almost daring me.  I wasn't going to back down, so I got into his face, almost nose to nose, and said again very sternly, "Brian, sit down."  He looked at me a moment then simply said, "Whoa, somebody needs a tic-tac." (breath mint)  I nearly bit my tongue to stop from laughing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-1837554383045908483?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/1837554383045908483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=1837554383045908483&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/1837554383045908483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/1837554383045908483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/04/you-take-my-breath-away.html' title='YOU TAKE MY BREATH AWAY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-3322031952722553203</id><published>2007-04-26T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T09:55:02.652-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FIELD DAY</title><content type='html'>I am a sixth grade teacher.  Every year we take a field trip to a local theme park.  Every year the rules are the same.  There is no eating or drinking on the bus allowed.  This is not to be cruel but it is only a twenty minute ride and, from experience, I know what a mess the kids can make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the students were lining up and I noticed Joey with a 2 Liter bottle of coke and a large bag or Oreo cookies.  I reminded him "no eating or drinking on the bus."  He protested that he didn't want to waste the goodies so I said "either eat them now or throw them out."  He went to the back of the line and I forgot all about it.  Fortunately, a volunteer parent was in charge of his group.    About mid morning I was seated on a bench, close to the ferris wheel.  I heard a commotion and looked up in time to see that grossness had fallen from the sky and landed on a group of tourists.  As I looked up higher I saw where the cola/cookie mess had originated.  Joey had vomited from the very top of the ferris wheel.  I said a silent prayer that I was not assigned to his group.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-3322031952722553203?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/3322031952722553203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=3322031952722553203&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/3322031952722553203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/3322031952722553203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/04/field-day.html' title='FIELD DAY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-6944204535913913793</id><published>2007-04-26T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T09:47:17.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HIGH TECH SOLUTION</title><content type='html'>I am a tech teacher in an elementary school.  I had a class of second graders and one child was complaining that his computer was frozen.  He is a really intelligent child and since I was engaged in solving another computer problem at that time, I told him to "wiggle your mouse."  A few minutes later, thinking the problem had been solved I walked over to him and noted his jaw was moving frantically.  "Michael?"  He looked up at me, very frustrated "it's not working!"  Next time I'll be sure to make sure my students hear MOUSE and not MOUTH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-6944204535913913793?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/6944204535913913793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=6944204535913913793&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/6944204535913913793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/6944204535913913793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/04/high-tech-solution.html' title='HIGH TECH SOLUTION'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-6366790752323824158</id><published>2007-04-07T15:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-07T15:21:32.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GREEN ELEVEN</title><content type='html'>I used to work with a teacher who was squeamish.  When a kid was sporting a runny nose, she would quietly come up to me, gagging and say "quick, green eleven, get tissue!" before running from the room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-6366790752323824158?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/6366790752323824158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=6366790752323824158&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/6366790752323824158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/6366790752323824158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/04/green-eleven.html' title='GREEN ELEVEN'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-8293377391905943434</id><published>2007-04-07T15:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-07T15:19:43.979-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CRAFTY KIDS</title><content type='html'>I knew a teacher who would refer to the CRAFTY ones.  One day she admitted it was in reference to the students who CAN'T REMEMBER A F_____ING THING!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-8293377391905943434?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/8293377391905943434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=8293377391905943434&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/8293377391905943434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/8293377391905943434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/04/crafty-kids.html' title='CRAFTY KIDS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-4582512408894463418</id><published>2007-03-29T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T16:17:12.572-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HO HO HO</title><content type='html'>I was working as a long term sub with a very refined, older teacher. She was close to retirement.  It bugged me that she would refer to kids as that "elf" Johnny or that "elf" Susie, etc.  On my last day I said to her "I am curious why you call the students elf this or elf that.  "Ahhh" she said, with a twinkle in her eye.  "ELF stands for EVIL LITTLE F___CKER!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-4582512408894463418?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/4582512408894463418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=4582512408894463418&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/4582512408894463418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/4582512408894463418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/03/ho-ho-ho.html' title='HO HO HO'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-2456778915894831912</id><published>2007-03-07T18:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-04-07T15:26:16.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A CHRISTMAS STORY</title><content type='html'>I am Catholic but work at a jewish school as a P.E. teacher. One day a first grader asked me why I didn't wear a yarmulke. "I'm not jewish", I replied. "Oh, you must be Christmas" was his knowing response.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-2456778915894831912?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/2456778915894831912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=2456778915894831912&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/2456778915894831912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/2456778915894831912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/03/christmas-story.html' title='A CHRISTMAS STORY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-3384464631693831043</id><published>2007-03-01T12:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-01T12:55:30.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE APPLE DOESN'T FALL FAR FROM THE TREE</title><content type='html'>I had a very disorganized 3rd grader in my class last year.  I sent home two written reminders and finally called and left a message on the voice mail at home to please send in the permission slip for the field trip.  The next day I got a scrawled note "sorry, can't find the permission slip  but I  do give permission for my son to attend, etc......"    It was written on the back of the permission slip I'd sent home!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-3384464631693831043?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/3384464631693831043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=3384464631693831043&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/3384464631693831043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/3384464631693831043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/03/apple-doesnt-fall-far-from-tree.html' title='THE APPLE DOESN&apos;T FALL FAR FROM THE TREE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-1893731724186590357</id><published>2007-03-01T12:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-01T12:51:56.464-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GLASSES</title><content type='html'>I was preparing to read my first grade class "The Speckled Hen."  Before beginning I asked if anyone could tell me what "speckled" meant.  "It means he wears glasses!" said a little girl in the back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-1893731724186590357?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/1893731724186590357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=1893731724186590357&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/1893731724186590357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/1893731724186590357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/03/glasses.html' title='GLASSES'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-7673963705190746762</id><published>2007-02-28T15:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T16:00:07.754-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GOOD SAMARITAN</title><content type='html'>Our third grade class was discussing being a good samaritan.  For the sake of discussion I asked "if you saw a person injured, lying on the sidewalk, what would you do? "  A girl called out "I'd throw up!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-7673963705190746762?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/7673963705190746762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=7673963705190746762&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/7673963705190746762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/7673963705190746762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/02/good-samaritan.html' title='GOOD SAMARITAN'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-2176552047216245144</id><published>2007-02-28T15:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T15:57:42.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LOT'S WIFE</title><content type='html'>The Sunday teacher was describing how Lot's wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt, when little Jason inturrupted "my Mom looked back when she was driving and she turned into  a telephone pole!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-2176552047216245144?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/2176552047216245144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=2176552047216245144&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/2176552047216245144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/2176552047216245144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/02/lots-wife.html' title='LOT&apos;S WIFE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-117138842569907198</id><published>2007-02-13T09:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T09:40:25.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GIVING IT UP FOR LINT</title><content type='html'>I was teaching Sunday school and Lent was approaching.  I asked if anyone could tell me about Lent. A little girl eagerly raised her hand and stood up.  "Yes," she said proudly, "Lent is what my Mom picks out of the dryer."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-117138842569907198?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/117138842569907198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=117138842569907198&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/117138842569907198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/117138842569907198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/02/giving-it-up-for-lint.html' title='GIVING IT UP FOR LINT'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-117029332899033137</id><published>2007-01-31T17:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T17:28:48.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LUNCH?</title><content type='html'>I was five months pregnant and working with three and four years old in a preschool class.  I didn't see the need to announce my pregnancy to children that young and besides, the kids seemed oblivious.  One day as the class was dismissing a little boy asked me why my belly was so fat.  I told him that it wasn't fat, there was a baby in there!  He took off like a bat out of hell without saying a word.  Fortunately, his Mom was just arriving to pick him up.  The next day when she brought him in he wouldn't let go of her hand and enter the classroom.  His grinning Mom took me aside to explain.  "He's afraid of you because he thinks you eat babies!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-117029332899033137?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/117029332899033137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=117029332899033137&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/117029332899033137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/117029332899033137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/01/lunch.html' title='LUNCH?'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-117029300427422205</id><published>2007-01-31T17:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T17:23:24.293-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE TOUGH GUY</title><content type='html'>Years ago I taught middle school in a  rough part of town. A young male teacher was assigned the very worst class of rowdy boys.  He wore a plaster cast over his upper body, concealed by his shirt. He had recently had spinal surgery. On the first day of school he had the window open and his tie kept blowing around.  Unfazed, he made eye contact with a streetwise kid in the front row, picked the stapler off his desk and stapled the flapping tie to his chest.  Stunned silence and very few behavior problems in that class after that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-117029300427422205?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/117029300427422205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=117029300427422205&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/117029300427422205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/117029300427422205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/01/tough-guy.html' title='THE TOUGH GUY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116916451007263751</id><published>2007-01-18T15:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T17:31:54.663-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SNEEZE</title><content type='html'>I was greeted  by an eager 5th grade boy.  He came towards me, filled with anticipation and wanting to tell me something.  As he got very close he suddenly sneezed, twice and I was covered.  Ewwww.  I said "Kirk, that was very impolite and also very poor hygiene.  What did you get on me?"  He looked very solemn as he mopped himself off and said "your nerves?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116916451007263751?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116916451007263751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116916451007263751&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116916451007263751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116916451007263751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/01/sneeze.html' title='SNEEZE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116916426879977351</id><published>2007-01-18T15:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T15:51:08.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I WANT ONE TOO!!</title><content type='html'>I was giving directions to my class of second graders.  A boy in the front row turned to his classmate and said "I just love it when she gives out erections."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116916426879977351?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116916426879977351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116916426879977351&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116916426879977351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116916426879977351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-want-one-too.html' title='I WANT ONE TOO!!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116749300044422890</id><published>2006-12-30T07:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T07:36:40.463-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES</title><content type='html'>My friend was teaching a class of four year olds the concept of a calendar.  She patiently explained the days of the week, months, etc. In an effort to convey where the class was on that particular day she pointed to that date and said "where are we NOW?"  A child raised his hand and said "Virginia!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116749300044422890?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116749300044422890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116749300044422890&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116749300044422890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116749300044422890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/12/what-difference-day-makes.html' title='WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116718126637628669</id><published>2006-12-26T16:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T17:01:06.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE REAL JOB</title><content type='html'>I am a kindergarden teacher.  One day a student asked me where I worked!  I thought it was pretty cute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116718126637628669?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116718126637628669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116718126637628669&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116718126637628669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116718126637628669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/12/real-job.html' title='THE REAL JOB'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116656146811506730</id><published>2006-12-19T12:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T12:51:08.116-08:00</updated><title type='text'>APOLOGIES TO WILLIAM PENN</title><content type='html'>I teach eight grade History.  Always, I remind the students that spelling does count.  Despite this, during a unit on colonization, I can not begin to tell you how many settlers were seeking religous freedom in William Penn's colon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116656146811506730?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116656146811506730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116656146811506730&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116656146811506730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116656146811506730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/12/apologies-to-william-penn.html' title='APOLOGIES TO WILLIAM PENN'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116656135851993734</id><published>2006-12-19T12:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T12:49:18.520-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DRUGS, anyone?</title><content type='html'>WE had rehearsed and rehearsed.  My fourth grade son was to greet the parents when they came to school for a Thanksgiving luncheon.  He was to welcome them and then say "Now please join me for a minute of silence and meditation."  Unfortuantely, he said "Now please join me for a minute of silence and MEDICATION!."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116656135851993734?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116656135851993734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116656135851993734&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116656135851993734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116656135851993734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/12/drugs-anyone.html' title='DRUGS, anyone?'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116656124396275498</id><published>2006-12-19T12:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T12:47:24.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'>COOPERATE!</title><content type='html'>I was teaching my first graders about cooperating.  I noticed the confused expression on a little girls face and asked "Do you know what cooperate means?" She sighed and said "yeah, my uncle got cooperated on and he died from it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116656124396275498?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116656124396275498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116656124396275498&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116656124396275498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116656124396275498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/12/cooperate.html' title='COOPERATE!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116560955439375871</id><published>2006-12-08T12:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T12:25:54.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HAIR RAISING PARENT</title><content type='html'>I had a parent that waw a real pain in my rear.  She called me constantly at home and coddled her kid who was, not surprisisngly, annoying and superior.  Anyway, one day she called me at home and began ranting about the "trash" I was teaching her kid in science.  He had come home to report that I said that "hair is liquid."  There was stunned silence when I informed her I had taught the class that "Air is fluid."  For once, she didn't have a comeback. Felt pretty good, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116560955439375871?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116560955439375871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116560955439375871&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116560955439375871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116560955439375871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/12/hair-raising-parent.html' title='HAIR RAISING PARENT'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116494064674880678</id><published>2006-11-30T18:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T18:37:26.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A KEEPER</title><content type='html'>A parent came to visit our Kindergarden class with her small child, a perspective student, in tow.  One of my first graders, a little boy, ran to the child and said to his Mom "aww, he's so cute - can we keep him?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116494064674880678?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116494064674880678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116494064674880678&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116494064674880678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116494064674880678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/11/keeper.html' title='A KEEPER'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116457820421540985</id><published>2006-11-26T13:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T13:56:44.216-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DO YOU HAVE ANY FUNNY TEACHING STORIES?</title><content type='html'>Do you have any funny teaching stories?  Why not join others, worldwide, who have dared to share?  Stories must be true, funny and will remain anoymous to protect the guilty!  Guaranteed to bring a smile.  Just click on "comments" below or write to us at classroomklassics@yahoo.com  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lf&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116457820421540985?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116457820421540985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116457820421540985&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116457820421540985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116457820421540985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/11/do-you-have-any-funny-teaching-stories_26.html' title='DO YOU HAVE ANY FUNNY TEACHING STORIES?'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116457810034211962</id><published>2006-11-26T13:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T13:57:53.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ADAM AND EVE</title><content type='html'>I was introducing my first grade class to odd and even numbers.  "Does anyone know about odd and even?" I began.  A little boy called out "oh yeah, I learned about those guys in Sunday school - they are in the bible!"  It took me a minute to realize he was thinking of Adam and Eve!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116457810034211962?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116457810034211962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116457810034211962&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116457810034211962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116457810034211962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/11/adam-and-eve.html' title='ADAM AND EVE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116379777338683562</id><published>2006-11-17T13:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-17T13:09:33.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'>COLOR BLIND</title><content type='html'>I was teaching my first graders primary colors.  "Who can tell me the three primary colors" I said.  "I know, I know" said one girl, her hand flying over her head.  When I pointed to her she stood and said "Black, White and Mexican."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116379777338683562?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116379777338683562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116379777338683562&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116379777338683562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116379777338683562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/11/color-blind.html' title='COLOR BLIND'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116320443232388287</id><published>2006-11-10T16:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-10T16:20:32.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A SIGN OF THE TIMES</title><content type='html'>I work in a class of autistic students.  Most of the kids have been together for several years.  One boy has been in the class since fourth grade and is currently in 8th grade.  He and another student started our program at the same time and have gone through the last several years together.  We have been trying to use sign language with the boy, who is also non-verbal, but never knew if he was getting it or not.  That is, until one day when he caught my eye, walked over to his female classmate, pointed at her newly blossoming bosom and, with a big grin, signed the word "BIG!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116320443232388287?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116320443232388287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116320443232388287&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116320443232388287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116320443232388287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/11/sign-of-times.html' title='A SIGN OF THE TIMES'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116216805010777531</id><published>2006-10-29T16:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T16:27:30.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"CAT" ASTROPHE</title><content type='html'>This comes from England:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My group of primary students had just come in on a Monday morning.  One little boy,  approached me.  "Poor Sam is dead" he said, eyes filling.  "Who is Sam?"  I inquired.  "Sam is my cat and I know he is dead because I pissed in his ear" was the very solemn reply. I asked him to repeat himself and he said it again "I know he is dead because I pissed in his ear."  He looked up at me as I struggled for words "but Dear" I said "Why in the world would you do such a thing?"  He sighed and said "If you want to check if someone is dead you lean over like this and whisper "psssst" in their ear. If they don't move, they are dead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116216805010777531?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116216805010777531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116216805010777531&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116216805010777531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116216805010777531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/10/cat-astrophe.html' title='&quot;CAT&quot; ASTROPHE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116189004507178072</id><published>2006-10-26T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T12:14:05.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ANATOMY</title><content type='html'>The subject was hygiene and taking care of the skin, the largest organ of the human body.  I told the students I was going to review the questions before giving a quiz.  I started with the first question which we had just gone over.  "What is the largest organ on your body?"  A boy yelled out "my penis."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116189004507178072?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116189004507178072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116189004507178072&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116189004507178072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116189004507178072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/10/anatomy.html' title='ANATOMY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116165637021012584</id><published>2006-10-23T19:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T19:19:30.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT</title><content type='html'>I was teaching health to a class of special needs teenagers.  One of the students asked what caused his father to snore loudly at night.  He said "it scares my mother half to death when he suddenly lets out a big snore."  Another boy piped up "MY DAD scares my mother half to death when he lets out big scary farts in bed in the middle of the night."  When his Dad came to pick him up afer school I couldn't look him in the eye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116165637021012584?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116165637021012584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116165637021012584&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116165637021012584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116165637021012584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/10/in-still-of-night.html' title='IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116164088773267078</id><published>2006-10-23T14:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T15:01:27.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BOY PROBLEM</title><content type='html'>A second grade boy was squirming around in the back of my class.  He looked really uncomfortable so I spoke to him in private.  He confided that he had a rash on his "privates" and it was really bothering him.  I told him to go to the nurses office and call his Mom and ask her what he should do. (I sent a note of explanation with him to the nurse so he could have a private conversation with Mom) Off he went and came back a few minutes later. "Everything o.k"?" I asked.  "Yes", he replied.  Less than a minute after he was seated there was a commotion in the back of the classroom.  I went back and saw the same student's penis out of his pants.  "What do you think you are doing?" I asked, none too politely.  "My Mom said if I stick it out until noon she'll come and pick me up" was his straight faced reply.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116164088773267078?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116164088773267078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116164088773267078&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116164088773267078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116164088773267078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/10/boy-problem.html' title='BOY PROBLEM'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116111166461559530</id><published>2006-10-17T11:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T12:01:04.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE FIRST CUT IS THE DEEPEST</title><content type='html'>I was teaching at a church preschool.  One of the little girls had grabbed the scissors off my desk and cut a large chunk out of the front of her hair.  I got a phone called from a distraught Mom who said the child said that I had cut it against her will!  The next day, Mom dropped her off and I knelt to the child's eye level and sweetly said "Kelly, I'm a little confused and sad.  Why did you tell Mommy that I cut your hair."  She met my gaze (Mom still standing there) and just as sweetly said "Well, Mrs. K, I told her that you cut my hair because you DID!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116111166461559530?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116111166461559530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116111166461559530&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116111166461559530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116111166461559530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/10/first-cut-is-deepest.html' title='THE FIRST CUT IS THE DEEPEST'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116059855851288806</id><published>2006-10-11T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T13:29:18.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PSYCHOLOGY 1</title><content type='html'>My friend was teaching psychology to her class of 12th graders.  In order to get their attention she asked for all the stupid students to please stand up.  When one boy leapt to his feet she asked "are you stupid?"  "No", he replied, "I just hated to see you standing there all by yourself!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116059855851288806?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116059855851288806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116059855851288806&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116059855851288806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116059855851288806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/10/psychology-1.html' title='PSYCHOLOGY 1'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116050838646695352</id><published>2006-10-10T12:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T12:26:26.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I asked for it!</title><content type='html'>I was going over the curriculum for the year with a class of 13 year olds.  I briefly went over what we would be doing each month and mentioned that "sex ed" would be in May.  I then (stupidly) asked it there were any questions.  "Yes" a boy called out, raising his hand.  "When are we going to talk about my dick?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116050838646695352?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116050838646695352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116050838646695352&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116050838646695352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116050838646695352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-asked-for-it.html' title='I asked for it!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-116050826280228950</id><published>2006-10-10T12:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T12:24:22.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WEED KILLER</title><content type='html'>I was teaching health to a class of ten year olds.  One boy asked about the merits of hand sanitizers vs. hand washing.  I asked the students if they had any experience on the subject because I didn't use the sanitizers myself.  A boy raised his hand and very politely said "my Dad prefers the hand sanitizers over soap because the sanitizers really kill the smell of weed after he's been smoking."  I tried not to look mortified and just changed the subject.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-116050826280228950?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/116050826280228950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=116050826280228950&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116050826280228950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/116050826280228950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/10/weed-killer.html' title='WEED KILLER'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-115714665125549985</id><published>2006-09-01T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-02T19:42:18.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE MIDDLE WIFE</title><content type='html'>I have been teaching for 15 years.  The best show and tell ever was told by a seven year old named Lilly in my second grade class. How I wished I had my camcorder that day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once a week I do show and tell with the kids.  They love it and it is always good for a few laughs.  On this particular morning an eager Lilly came waddling up to the front to do her show and tell.   She had her coat stuffed under her shirt and was carrying a photo of her days old brother.  "This is Luke, my new brother and I'm going to show you and tell you how he got borned."  She continued "He is a symbol of my Mom and Dad's love.  My Dad put a seed in my Mom and Luke grew there.  He ate for nine months through an umbrella cord." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to keep a straight face as she continued...."My Mommy was going ow, ow and walking like this"  Lilly duck walked around, groaning and grabbing her back.  My Dad called the middle wife  and she told Mommy to do this."  Lilly sat on the floor, back against the wall.  "And then, POP," Lilly expained that Mom had this bag of water that she kept in there in case the baby got thirsty.  "The water spilled and went Peshewwwwwww"  At this, she spreads her legs and is miming water flowing through her hands.  "They started counting and Mommy was pushing and then Luke came out and his play center came after him."  Lilly then stood up, bowed and returned to her seat.  I'm sure I applauded the loudest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-115714665125549985?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/115714665125549985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=115714665125549985&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115714665125549985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115714665125549985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/09/middle-wife.html' title='THE MIDDLE WIFE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-115521655633419973</id><published>2006-08-10T06:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T06:29:16.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SIMON SAYS</title><content type='html'>My daughter was directing a classroom of ten, four years old at a summer camp.  They were playing "Simon Says" and the children would ditifully follow her directions "Simon says hands on your hips, Simon says hands on your head" etc.  All was well until she said "YOUR NOSE" and the entire class of four year olds stuck their fingers up their noses!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-115521655633419973?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/115521655633419973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=115521655633419973&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115521655633419973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115521655633419973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/08/simon-says.html' title='SIMON SAYS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-115246672654729463</id><published>2006-07-09T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T10:38:46.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN</title><content type='html'>I was teaching my fifth grade class about using their resources.  Since a project on Washington, D.C. was due the next week I suggested the computer as a logical place to research the nations capital.  I went to say "just try different things.  You could type in  www.whitehouse.com  and get some good information."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got three parent phone calls that night.  Who knew that   www.whitehouse.com  is a porn site!  I do now!  Careful how you use your resources!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-115246672654729463?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/115246672654729463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=115246672654729463&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115246672654729463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115246672654729463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/07/proud-to-be-american.html' title='PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-115172191760178704</id><published>2006-06-30T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T19:45:17.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YO MOMMA!</title><content type='html'>One morning I was checking Spelling homework from the night before.  Each student had to write a sentence with each of the spelling words from the week.  I was going around the classroom asking each student to read their sentence to the class.  When I called on one student he politely asked if he could be the last student because it was "a really good sentence."  I agreed that he could read the sentence last figuring that it was a great sentence, using context clues and the spelling words correctly.  When I came to the last word on the list I called out "Jordan, please read your sentence with the word TON."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a big smile on his face, proud at the use of his word, Jordan politely recited "Yo Momma weighs a TON!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-115172191760178704?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/115172191760178704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=115172191760178704&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115172191760178704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115172191760178704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/06/yo-momma.html' title='YO MOMMA!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-115127902893037556</id><published>2006-06-25T16:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T16:43:48.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE TRUTH ABOUT GEORGE WASHINGTON</title><content type='html'>We were learning about George Washington.  I explained that not only had he chopped down his father's cherry tree but he also admitted it.  "Alex, do you know why his father didn't punish him?" I asked.  He thought for a minute and then said "Because George still had the ax in his hand."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-115127902893037556?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/115127902893037556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=115127902893037556&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115127902893037556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115127902893037556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/06/truth-about-george-washington.html' title='THE TRUTH ABOUT GEORGE WASHINGTON'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-115127886053133474</id><published>2006-06-25T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T16:41:00.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BORING!</title><content type='html'>I asked the class "what do you call someone who keeps on talking to people who are no longer interested?"  A girl raised her hand and said "a teacher?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-115127886053133474?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/115127886053133474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=115127886053133474&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115127886053133474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115127886053133474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/06/boring.html' title='BORING!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-115042316446473362</id><published>2006-06-15T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T18:59:24.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DO YOU HAVE ANY CLASSROOM KLASSICS?</title><content type='html'>Do you have any classroom classics?  Why not join others, worldwide, who have dared to share?  Stories must be true, funny and will remain anonymous to protect the guilty.  Simply click "comments" below or write to us at classroomklassics@yahoo.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ltf&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-115042316446473362?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/115042316446473362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=115042316446473362&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115042316446473362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115042316446473362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/06/do-you-have-any-classroom-klassics.html' title='DO YOU HAVE ANY CLASSROOM KLASSICS?'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-115042304614086919</id><published>2006-06-15T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T18:57:26.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A SENTIMENTAL NOTE FOR THE BRIDE</title><content type='html'>One of our teachers was getting married.  She was very popular with the first and second grade students and they wanted to do something for her.  We decided to make a book, each page would have a letter of good wishes from the second graders.  I wrote some words on the board like bridal, congratulations, gown, beautiful, happiness, etc. to get them started and told them to write from the heart.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One cute red headed boy put a lot of time into his, printing neatly and concentrating hard.  When everyone was done he raised his hand to share his letter with the class.  He started "Dear Ms. Brady, I hope you don't look like a big, fat idiot in your bridal gown.....The class burst into laughter and the boy burst into tears.  I took him in the hall and started to chastise him for his unkind words for such a beloved and beautiful teacher and asked him whatever possessed him to write such a thing.  Well, he sniffled, "My aunt got married last year and she looked like a big fat idiot in her dress.   I didn't want Ms. Brady to look like an idiot like my aunt did."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-115042304614086919?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/115042304614086919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=115042304614086919&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115042304614086919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115042304614086919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/06/sentimental-note-for-bride.html' title='A SENTIMENTAL NOTE FOR THE BRIDE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-115021752158407042</id><published>2006-06-13T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T09:52:14.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FROM THE MOUTHS OF BABES</title><content type='html'>I had put on a few pounds during my month out of work with a broken leg.  On my first day back to the second grade classroom I commented to the children "My you all look wonderful.  I think you are all bigger!"  One kid piped up with "YOU ARE, That,s for sure."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-115021752158407042?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/115021752158407042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=115021752158407042&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115021752158407042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115021752158407042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/06/from-mouths-of-babes.html' title='FROM THE MOUTHS OF BABES'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-115021737598157862</id><published>2006-06-13T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T09:49:35.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BOOGER JELLY BEANS</title><content type='html'>During lunch the third graders were discussing the Harry Potter candy with various nasty named flavors.  One of the boys said, with great authority "Oh, the booger ones taste gross - they are booger flavored."  Anaother boy piped up with "No, they don't taste like boogers - I KNOW WHAT A BOOGER TASTE LIKE!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-115021737598157862?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/115021737598157862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=115021737598157862&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115021737598157862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/115021737598157862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/06/booger-jelly-beans.html' title='BOOGER JELLY BEANS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114848968716675162</id><published>2006-05-24T09:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T09:57:42.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DO YOU HAVE ANY CLASSROOM CLASSICS?</title><content type='html'>Why not join others, worldwide, who have dared to share?  Stories must be true, funny and will remain anonymous to protect the guilty!  Guaranteed to bring a smile.  Simply click comments below or write to us at  classroomklassics@yahoo.com   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ltf&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114848968716675162?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114848968716675162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114848968716675162&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114848968716675162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114848968716675162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/05/do-you-have-any-classroom-classics_24.html' title='DO YOU HAVE ANY CLASSROOM CLASSICS?'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114848956146701006</id><published>2006-05-24T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T09:52:41.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK!</title><content type='html'>We were studying resources (human, natural, capital, etc.) in second grade.  I was prompting the class to say human resource.  They weren't getting it.  I finally said "what am I?"  A kid in the back muttered "an idiot?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114848956146701006?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114848956146701006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114848956146701006&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114848956146701006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114848956146701006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/05/careful-what-you-ask.html' title='CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114848942906772177</id><published>2006-05-24T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T09:50:29.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I JUST WANNA SEE THE BABY!</title><content type='html'>I was standing, talking to my very pregnant colleague at recess.  Suddenly, a little kid, around first grade, darted over and stuck his head up her dress.  "What are you doing?"  She barked at him as she tugged her dress down.  "I just wanna see the baby" he said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114848942906772177?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114848942906772177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114848942906772177&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114848942906772177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114848942906772177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-just-wanna-see-baby.html' title='I JUST WANNA SEE THE BABY!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114771752230411366</id><published>2006-05-15T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T11:25:22.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IN THE HOLE</title><content type='html'>I was teaching a Sunday school class to six year olds.  At the end of the class we were saying The Lords Prayer.  My ears perked up when I heard a new boy say "and in the hole he goes."  Afterwward, I quietly took him aside and asked him to repeat the words to me he said "and the father, and  the son and in the hole he goes."  When I gently corrected him to say "the holy ghost" he was indignant and told me I should read the bible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114771752230411366?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114771752230411366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114771752230411366&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114771752230411366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114771752230411366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/05/in-hole.html' title='IN THE HOLE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114695682321035523</id><published>2006-05-06T16:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T16:07:03.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YOUR MOMMY HAS A WHAT!!??</title><content type='html'>My second grade student proudly handed me his story to review.  In it, he revealed that his Mom was mad at her pimp.  Certain that he had just spelled a word incorrectly I pointed to it and said "What does that say?"  He said P-I-M-P - Pimp!"  I asked him if he knew what it meant.  "Yeah", he responded with confidence, "It's short for a pimple and my Mom is mad that she has one on her face."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114695682321035523?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114695682321035523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114695682321035523&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114695682321035523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114695682321035523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/05/your-mommy-has-what.html' title='YOUR MOMMY HAS A WHAT!!??'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114667540595887172</id><published>2006-05-03T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T09:56:45.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big Bang Theory</title><content type='html'>I was working one on one with a 5th grade boy.  We were discussing the big bang theory within earshot of many other students and staff.  "Ya want to know about the big bang, ask my Dad!" he said.  (His Dad is a bookish, nerdy Phd. with whom I chat REGULARLY.)  He continued "when he farts, it's the big bang and it's NASTY"  Oh great.  How am I supposed to keep a straight face the next time I see Dad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114667540595887172?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114667540595887172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114667540595887172&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114667540595887172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114667540595887172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/05/big-bang-theory.html' title='The Big Bang Theory'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114667519154446752</id><published>2006-05-03T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T09:53:11.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TEACHER HAS WEAPONS</title><content type='html'>I work with a child who has obsessive compulsive disorder.  I can usually see the funny side of situations, until today, that is. We were reading together and I asked him to look at my reference. He thought I said "weapons."  I promptly corrected him but for the rest of the day he told everyone about the teachers WEAPONS!  Agggghhh  Lord give me patience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114667519154446752?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114667519154446752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114667519154446752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114667519154446752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114667519154446752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/05/teacher-has-weapons.html' title='TEACHER HAS WEAPONS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114590153670633016</id><published>2006-04-24T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T10:58:56.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DO AS I MEANT NOT AS I SAY</title><content type='html'>We had finished an art project in the classroom.  One of the boys was fascinated with the one hole punch and there was little circles all over the floor.  I said,"Freddy, get thosse circles on the floor for the janitor, please."  A few minutes later I glanced over and noted Freddy cheerfully hole punching circles all over the floor.  "What are you doing?" I shrieked, none too professionally. Poor Freddy looked up in astonishment and said "you told me to get those circles on the floor for the janitor!" I had indeed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114590153670633016?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114590153670633016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114590153670633016&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114590153670633016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114590153670633016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/04/do-as-i-meant-not-as-i-say.html' title='DO AS I MEANT NOT AS I SAY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114406314426457893</id><published>2006-04-03T04:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T16:33:06.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FIRST AID HURTS</title><content type='html'>This from Northern Virginia:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend teaches first aid and goes around to different schools and organizations.  He had finished giving his talk and demonstration on defiblleraters and noticed an  older teen in the back looking uncomfortable.  He had told the class that all jewelery would be removed by the person administering first aid in order to avoid a certain burn from the device.  The same girl sought him out after class and asked him to clarify about the jewelry.  She tentatively asked "what about jewelry lower?"  My friend, being a cool guy, read her mind and put her at ease "oh a belly button piercing?  No problem, a paramedic would check for that and remove it too, besides it would be obvious if someone had to open your shirt to administer the defibllerater."  "Uh," she stammered.  "What about further south than my belly?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114406314426457893?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114406314426457893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114406314426457893&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114406314426457893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114406314426457893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/04/first-aid-hurts.html' title='FIRST AID HURTS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114338521934927382</id><published>2006-03-26T06:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-26T07:00:19.363-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SEX ED</title><content type='html'>My friend was pleased to have recently landed a job where she travels from school to school, teaching sex education.  That is, until the SECOND time she ran into a student at the mall who loudly announced to his parents and all in earshot "this is Mrs. E.  She is the one that taught me all about sex!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114338521934927382?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114338521934927382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114338521934927382&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114338521934927382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114338521934927382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/03/sex-ed.html' title='SEX ED'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114321391312667650</id><published>2006-03-24T07:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-24T07:25:13.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DRESSING A CHILD</title><content type='html'>Anyone who has ever assisted a child getting dressed to go home will love this one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you hear about the Montana Teacher who was helping one of her kindergarten students put on his cowboy boots?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked for help and she could see why.  Even with her pulling and him pushing, the little boots still didn't want to go on.  Finally, when the 2nd boot was on, she had worked up a sweat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She almost cried when the little boy said, "Teacher, they're on the wrong feet."  She looked and sure enugh, they were.  It wasn't any easier pulling the boots off than it was putting them on.  She managed to keep her cool as together they worked to get the boots back on, this time on the right feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then announced, "They aren't my boots."  She bit her tongue rather than get right in his face and scream "Why didn't you say so?"  which was what she wanted to do.  Once again, she struggled to help him pull off the ill-fitting boots.  No sooner had they got the boots off and he said "They're my little brother's boots.  My Mom made me wear 'em."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, she didn't know if she should laugh or cry.  But, she mustered up the grace and courage she had left to wrestle the boots on his feet again.  Helping him into his coat, she asked, "Now, where are your mittens?"  He said "I stuffed 'em in the toes of my boots."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her trial starts next month.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114321391312667650?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114321391312667650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114321391312667650&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114321391312667650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114321391312667650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/03/dressing-child.html' title='DRESSING A CHILD'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114264818320488811</id><published>2006-03-17T18:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-17T18:16:23.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MOVIE STAR GORGEOUS</title><content type='html'>I was having a conversation with a 7 year old during our break time.  He said he'd seen a really great movie over the weekend and I reminded him of one of the characters.  Like an idiot I asked him which movie he had seen.  Well, he said, It was Beauty and the Beast.  Certain that he thought I was a dead ringer for Belle, I thanked him.  "No," he continued, you remind me of the Beast!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114264818320488811?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114264818320488811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114264818320488811&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114264818320488811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114264818320488811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/03/movie-star-gorgeous.html' title='MOVIE STAR GORGEOUS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114193836743474614</id><published>2006-03-09T13:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-09T16:24:39.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SYMMETRY</title><content type='html'>I was demonstrating symmetry to the second graders.  They weren't getting it.  I put my hand over one side of my face and then the other.  "See?  They are the same.  That is symmetry."  One little boy called out "NOT! You have a zit on that side!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114193836743474614?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114193836743474614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114193836743474614&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114193836743474614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114193836743474614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/03/symmetry.html' title='SYMMETRY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114135519134412310</id><published>2006-03-02T19:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-02T19:06:31.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OPPOSITES DON't ALWAYS ATTRACT!</title><content type='html'>My pregnant friend was trying to demonstrate the concept of opposites to a kindergarden boy. He wasn't getting it.  She said "I used to be a little baby and I was YOUNG, now I'm an old lady (she got up and demonstrated an elderly person walking with a cane and bent over) and now I'm.........  He hesitated and then looked up at her and said "FAT?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114135519134412310?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114135519134412310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114135519134412310&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114135519134412310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114135519134412310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/03/opposites-dont-always-attract.html' title='OPPOSITES DON&apos;t ALWAYS ATTRACT!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114118320755613832</id><published>2006-02-28T19:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T19:20:07.570-08:00</updated><title type='text'>PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN</title><content type='html'>Our new kindergarden student was from the south.  This became evident when we said our morning "Pledge of Allegiance."  Luke stood, hand over heart and solemly recited the pledge, finishing up with "and liberty and justice for YA'LL."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114118320755613832?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114118320755613832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114118320755613832&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114118320755613832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114118320755613832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/proud-to-be-american.html' title='PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114101216587580325</id><published>2006-02-26T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T19:49:25.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>PUCKER UP!</title><content type='html'>JR in Ohio writes:&lt;br /&gt;Several years ago I heard a funny story that took place in a middle school.  The janitor was getting really annoyed because each evening he had to clean off the bathroom mirrors where the middle school girls had been putting on various long lasting (ie hard to remove!)lipstick and then pressing their lips on the mirror to leave lip marks.  He and the principal got together and cmae up with a plan.  They called all the middle school girls together and pointed out the lip marks on the mirror.  The janitor then demonstrated how difficult the mirrors were to clean. With the girls watching, he plunged the sponge into a toilet and proceeded to clean the mirror with the toilet water.  Needless to say, that took care of the lipstick on the mirror problem!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114101216587580325?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114101216587580325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114101216587580325&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114101216587580325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114101216587580325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/pucker-up.html' title='PUCKER UP!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114054397077241208</id><published>2006-02-21T09:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T09:46:10.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A NEW RELIGION</title><content type='html'>A friend was discussing various religions with her class of third graders.  Children raised their hands with with Catholicism, Judiasm, Muslim etc.  One little girl piped up with "Don't forget LESBIANISM!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114054397077241208?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114054397077241208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114054397077241208&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114054397077241208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114054397077241208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/new-religion.html' title='A NEW RELIGION'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114004741942353373</id><published>2006-02-15T15:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T15:50:19.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DO YOU HAVE ANY CLASSROOM CLASSICS?</title><content type='html'>Why not join others, worldwide, who have dared to share?  Simply click "comments" below or write to us at   classroomklassics@yahoo.com   All stories will remain anonymous to protect the guilty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ltf&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114004741942353373?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114004741942353373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114004741942353373&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114004741942353373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114004741942353373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/do-you-have-any-classroom-classics_15.html' title='DO YOU HAVE ANY CLASSROOM CLASSICS?'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-114004733237733170</id><published>2006-02-15T15:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T15:48:52.390-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GEOGRAPHY LESSON</title><content type='html'>My friends four year old son has recently become very interested in the difference between boys and girls.  His parents always use the correct terms for private parts.  He was having a conversation with his preschool teacher about China.  "That's funny!" he said.  "There's a place called China and girls have a china too!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-114004733237733170?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/114004733237733170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=114004733237733170&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114004733237733170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/114004733237733170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/geography-lesson.html' title='GEOGRAPHY LESSON'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113976859322125695</id><published>2006-02-12T10:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T10:23:13.223-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I JUST WANNA BE BOB</title><content type='html'>I had told the first graders that they could have free time as soon as they wrote their names on the tops of their papers.  After a minute one little boy threw his arms up in despair and let out a wail.  "What IS IT?" I asked him.  This poor kid had a greek name and it had 23 letters in it.  "WHY?", he wailed, couldn't I have just been Bob?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113976859322125695?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113976859322125695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113976859322125695&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113976859322125695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113976859322125695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-just-wanna-be-bob.html' title='I JUST WANNA BE BOB'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113969063543051282</id><published>2006-02-11T12:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T12:43:55.443-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SCRATCH OUT MY EYES!  MENTAL PICTURE!</title><content type='html'>My second grade student, a little boy, got dropped off at the school one morning as I was pulling up.  Later, I commented to the child "Bobby, you look just like your Daddy only, of course, he is bigger!"  He smiled and said "yeah,and his penis is like mine too only his is waaaay bigger!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113969063543051282?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113969063543051282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113969063543051282&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113969063543051282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113969063543051282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/scratch-out-my-eyes-mental-picture.html' title='SCRATCH OUT MY EYES!  MENTAL PICTURE!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113968867523169861</id><published>2006-02-11T12:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T12:11:15.243-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MOMMY'S THONG</title><content type='html'>The way it started was so innocent.  I asked the Kindergarten boy to describe what he liked to do in the winter, and draw a picture.  He said he loved to play in the snow with his Mommy and sometimes they got all wet and had to go inside and change clothes.  He went on to say "Can you please help me draw my Mommy's underwear?"  I told him that he could just draw her with her snow clothes on.  He went on to say "It's hard to draw her underwear because it has a string up the middle and her big old butt on both sides."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113968867523169861?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113968867523169861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113968867523169861&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113968867523169861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113968867523169861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/mommys-thong.html' title='MOMMY&apos;S THONG'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113933386819673506</id><published>2006-02-07T09:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-08T04:30:39.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GOLDILOCKS AND THE HOT CHEEKS</title><content type='html'>I had rehearsed the puppet show with the second graders.  All the children knew their lines and were putting on a show for classmates.  The little boy who played "Pappa Bear" popped up right on cue.  "Hey Goldilocks", he adlibbed, "you can keep your hot cheeks in my bed any old time!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113933386819673506?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113933386819673506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113933386819673506&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113933386819673506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113933386819673506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/goldilocks-and-hot-cheeks.html' title='GOLDILOCKS AND THE HOT CHEEKS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113888424782439962</id><published>2006-02-02T04:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T04:44:07.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A LITTLE PROBLEM</title><content type='html'>I was almost at work when I realized I'd forgotten my deodorant.  I debated returning home but didn't have time.  I comforted myself with the thought that my class of 6, 7 and 8 year olds wouldn't notice.  It was winter and I was wearing a thick sweater in the chilly classroom.  I talked myself into thinking it would be fine.  At the beginning of the day I leaned over a six year old first grade girl.  She looked up at me earnestly and said "You don't smell good a little."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113888424782439962?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113888424782439962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113888424782439962&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113888424782439962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113888424782439962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/little-problem.html' title='A LITTLE PROBLEM'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113888404109962010</id><published>2006-02-02T04:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T09:44:59.556-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WHO NOSE WHERE JOHNNY IS?</title><content type='html'>This from England....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was taking roll call and noticed that 6 year old Johnny was absent.  "He's out getting a nose job", his six year old classmate volunteered.  I had to leave the room because I was laughing so hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113888404109962010?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113888404109962010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113888404109962010&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113888404109962010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113888404109962010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/who-nose-where-johnny-is.html' title='WHO NOSE WHERE JOHNNY IS?'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113888385822773055</id><published>2006-02-02T04:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T04:37:38.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BUFF BOY</title><content type='html'>It was early June and very hot and steamy.  When six year old Zack came sauntering in wearing three shirts I asked him why.  "Well," he confided "I wanted the chicks to think I've been working out."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113888385822773055?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113888385822773055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113888385822773055&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113888385822773055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113888385822773055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/02/buff-boy.html' title='BUFF BOY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113859354846611325</id><published>2006-01-29T19:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T19:59:08.466-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING</title><content type='html'>We were having indoor recess.  I was at my desk and listening to the banter between two little boys.  One, the class bully, was always bragging about his accomplishments and belittling the other children. We were constantly correcting him.  The other little boy, sweet, shy and doe eyed.  He was also the newest student.  I heard the bully child say to the sweet boy "Hey, you can't belong to my club because you aren't cool enough."  "Frankly" said the SIX YEAR OLD " I don't give a flying fuck!"  The bully looked like he was about to faint and the sweet little boy got back to the business of his legos.  I pretended I didn't hear!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113859354846611325?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113859354846611325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113859354846611325&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113859354846611325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113859354846611325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/looks-can-be-deceiving.html' title='LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113859325280529139</id><published>2006-01-29T19:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T19:54:12.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE TRUTH HURTS</title><content type='html'>The principal was taking a potential new student's Mom on a tour of the school.  She came in to our classroom of 2nd graders and said "what is the best thing about second grade?"  In unison two little boys called out "recess!"  Well then, she continued, "what is the worst thing about second grade?"  In unison the same two little boys called out "her singing" pointing to ME!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113859325280529139?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113859325280529139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113859325280529139&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113859325280529139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113859325280529139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/truth-hurts.html' title='THE TRUTH HURTS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113824251689197808</id><published>2006-01-25T18:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T18:28:36.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DON'T QUIT THE DAY JOB</title><content type='html'>I was sitting at the back of the room grading papers while the children worked quietly on their math pages.  I was singing quietly to myself (so I thought) when a little girl called out  "face it Mrs. B., you're NOT going to Hollywood!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113824251689197808?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113824251689197808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113824251689197808&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113824251689197808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113824251689197808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/dont-quit-day-job.html' title='DON&apos;T QUIT THE DAY JOB'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113824233548283651</id><published>2006-01-25T18:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T18:25:35.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'>P PLEASE</title><content type='html'>I do various timed tests, drills etc. in the classroom.  When we do a multiplication timed test, we switch papers and correct them together.  There are 100 problems on a page and the rows are lettered instead of numbered.  The first row is A, second is B, and so on.  I call out "John read A, Sue B" etc.  We were on letter P and without thinking I said "Daniel, P for us."  The class didn't catch on until I started to giggle when my mind "saw" the phrase "Daniel pee for us."  It took us several minutes to get back under control.  I haven't made that mistake again.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113824233548283651?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113824233548283651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113824233548283651&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113824233548283651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113824233548283651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/p-please.html' title='P PLEASE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113824203597592305</id><published>2006-01-25T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T18:20:35.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>STUCK ON YOU</title><content type='html'>I give my 5th graders stickers as prizes to use on a sticker chart. They earn them for good grades and are are placed on their papers that go home each week to get signed by their parents.  The last batch of stickers I bought were not cut properly so I had to rip at them to get them apart.  One of my girls said "These stickers have separation issues."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113824203597592305?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113824203597592305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113824203597592305&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113824203597592305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113824203597592305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/stuck-on-you.html' title='STUCK ON YOU'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113804014353936253</id><published>2006-01-23T10:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T10:15:43.560-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A SKIN TIGHT FIT</title><content type='html'>I was scolding a first grade girl in private.  We were in the hall and I had crouched down to speak to her about her poor behavior.  When I paused she said "your skin on your face doesn't fit so good anymore, does it Mrs. G?  All I could think was thank God we were in the hall!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113804014353936253?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113804014353936253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113804014353936253&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113804014353936253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113804014353936253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/skin-tight-fit.html' title='A SKIN TIGHT FIT'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113796757313701804</id><published>2006-01-22T14:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T14:06:13.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A PROUD MOMENT FOR GRAMPS</title><content type='html'>I happen to know that this particular student comes from a  prominent family in our community. Her grandfather is the retired CEO of a very well known company and he is known as a brilliant businessman.  There was an article about him in the paper a few weeks back, annoucing his retirement and plans to move to Florida.  This is what his grandaughter wrote in first grade:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am proud of my Grandad because he just got retarded.  He is moving to a place for retarded people and it is called a retarded community.  I am proud of my Grandad for being so retarded."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113796757313701804?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113796757313701804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113796757313701804&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113796757313701804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113796757313701804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/proud-moment-for-gramps.html' title='A PROUD MOMENT FOR GRAMPS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113796715494283191</id><published>2006-01-22T13:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T13:59:14.953-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TOO MUCH INFORMATION</title><content type='html'>I was watching the kids at recess.  One of my former students, now a fourth grader came over to say hello.  I mentioned that I was five months pregnant and would be expecting a baby in June.  "Hmmmmmm," he said, stroking his chin and staring at me intently. "That means that Mr. Jones' male cells met your female cells exactly five months ago, during mating, is that correct?"  Somehow I'd prefer it if he believed in the stork!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113796715494283191?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113796715494283191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113796715494283191&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113796715494283191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113796715494283191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/too-much-information.html' title='TOO MUCH INFORMATION'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113775921587782402</id><published>2006-01-20T04:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-20T04:13:35.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CLASSROOM CLONE</title><content type='html'>It was impossible for my second grade boy to sit still.  He was always  wiggling around, out of his chair and on the go.  One evening I was at a concert and noticed him sitting in front of me with his family.  It amazed me that he was sitting perfectly still throughout the entire performance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day at school I said "Wesley, I am confused.  How were you able to stay seated in your chair at the the concert for two whole hours and you can't sit at your desk for even one minute?"  He retorted "Oh that guy?  He's my clone.  I send him to those things for me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113775921587782402?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113775921587782402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113775921587782402&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113775921587782402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113775921587782402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/classroom-clone.html' title='CLASSROOM CLONE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113736957231473505</id><published>2006-01-15T15:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-15T15:59:32.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THIS IS NOT A BLONDE JOKE!</title><content type='html'>I was teaching tenth grade English.  There was a very attractive, but none too bright, blonde girl in my class.  She also happened to be well endowed.  She came, ahem, bouncing in one day wearing a really beautiful sweater.  It looked to be eskimo in origin and had two animals on the front that appeared to be moose.  She sat down and I walked over to her and said "Melody, what an interesting sweater, and what are those" as I pointed at the front of her sweater.  No kidding, she glanced down, looked up at me and without missing a beat said "BOOBS!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113736957231473505?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113736957231473505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113736957231473505&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113736957231473505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113736957231473505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/this-is-not-blonde-joke.html' title='THIS IS NOT A BLONDE JOKE!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113721214215611708</id><published>2006-01-13T20:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T20:15:42.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BUCKLE UP FOR SAFETY</title><content type='html'>I was lining up my second graders to go down to the cafeteria for lunch.  We would be passing the principal's office so I asked them to please "do a good job" and walk quietly, in a straight line with arms at their sides because the principal would see us. One little guy immediately bent over at the waist, clutching himself as if he were cold and trying to warm himself.  I asked him to get his sweater and he said he didn't need one.  We started to pass the principals open door and he doubled over again, causing the boy behind him to knock into him and almost knock him over.  "Bobby" I reprimanded "you must follow my direction and stand up staight NOW!"  So, as fate would have it he stood up straight, arms at side directly in front of the principals door and his pants fell to the floor, around his ankles, exposing his skinny white legs and RED briefs!  "Buddy" I said to the crying child, why didn't you tell me you need a belt?  "You didn't ask me" was the response.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113721214215611708?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113721214215611708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113721214215611708&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113721214215611708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113721214215611708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/buckle-up-for-safety.html' title='BUCKLE UP FOR SAFETY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113715367142299094</id><published>2006-01-13T03:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T04:01:11.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FIRST IMPRESSIONS</title><content type='html'>My friend had just accepted a teaching position.  It was to start the day after winter break.  When his alarm went off he was delighted to hear the radio announcer say that schools were closed.  He smiled and snuggled back down under the covers.  He was mildly annoyed, an hour or so later, when the phone  started to ring and he just ignored it and rolled over.  After the fourth call he decided he'd better answer it in case it was an emergency.  It was the principal asking where he was.  He replied "It's a snow day, haven't you heard?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth he noticed there was not a snowflake in sight outside the kitchen window.  He hustled to school, two hours late after checking and seeing that the radio was set to a Buffalo station!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113715367142299094?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113715367142299094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113715367142299094&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113715367142299094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113715367142299094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/first-impressions.html' title='FIRST IMPRESSIONS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113715331786811876</id><published>2006-01-13T03:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T03:55:17.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'>JUST SPANK EM</title><content type='html'>We returned to preschool the week after Christmas.  I was very tired and had asked a little boy repeatedly to stop a particular behavior.  The last time I said "why don't you listen to me when I ask you to stop?"  A child standing next to me said "why don't you spank him?  It always makes me listen better when my Mom spanks me."  I found it so amusing as I told the class that teachers weren't allowed to spank children.  They were amazed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113715331786811876?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113715331786811876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113715331786811876&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113715331786811876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113715331786811876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/just-spank-em.html' title='JUST SPANK EM'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113715274822360753</id><published>2006-01-13T03:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T03:47:13.486-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WHISKEY, ANYONE?</title><content type='html'>It was a creative writing class for fourth graders.  The direction was to write several paragraphs using suspense.  The students were showing me their rough drafts.  One boy, a new student, told me his was going to be called "Whiskey Wiver."  I told him he'd have to change it, that it was inappropriate to use "Whiskey" in his title and besides "Wiver" wasn't a real word.  He looked dismayed and said "No, I mean Whiskey!"  The poor child had to repeat himself, speech impedement and all several times before It hit me that he meant "Risky River!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113715274822360753?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113715274822360753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113715274822360753&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113715274822360753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113715274822360753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/whiskey-anyone.html' title='WHISKEY, ANYONE?'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113665401550077003</id><published>2006-01-07T09:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T09:13:35.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ONE MANS (WOMANS) TRASH.....</title><content type='html'>This still makes me gag at the thought.  It happened last June, I had a little boy in the first grade who was constantly putting things in his mouth.  I'd catch him sucking or chewing on something and ask him to put it in the wastepaper basket.  It happened several times a day.  Everyone was pretty distracted on this particular day because there were only a few days left til summer vacation.  Sure enough, early in the day i noticed that BJ had something in his mouth.  I told him to spit it in the wastepaper basket and he obliged.  Imagine my horror when a tampon applicator came shooting out of his mouth into the basket.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113665401550077003?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113665401550077003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113665401550077003&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113665401550077003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113665401550077003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/one-mans-womans-trash.html' title='ONE MANS (WOMANS) TRASH.....'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113631611455314770</id><published>2006-01-03T11:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T11:21:54.553-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CHRISTMAS CRISIS</title><content type='html'>A seven year old girl in my class was annoyed that she was expected to go to church on Christmas Day.  She asked why they needed to go.  Her mother had explained that Christmas Day was Jesus' birthday and just like she got to choose where she went on her birthday to celebrate, Jesus wanted people to go to church to celebrate the day he was born.  "Yeah, but why does it have to be on CHRISTMAS?"  she replied.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113631611455314770?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113631611455314770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113631611455314770&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113631611455314770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113631611455314770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/christmas-crisis.html' title='CHRISTMAS CRISIS'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113631594022918003</id><published>2006-01-03T11:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T11:19:00.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SPELLING TROUBLE</title><content type='html'>I asked my second graders to write a sentence about P.E.  One little girl called out, indignant "No fair!  We don't know how to spell P.E!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113631594022918003?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113631594022918003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113631594022918003&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113631594022918003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113631594022918003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/spelling-trouble.html' title='SPELLING TROUBLE'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113624219720498785</id><published>2006-01-02T14:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T14:49:57.206-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BIRTHDAY BOY</title><content type='html'>At the beginning of the week the third grade class was doing a birthday bar graph and the kids had to color a cupcake and write their birthdate on it.  One student couldn't remember his birthday....no worries...I looked it up and gave it him the date.  About two minutes later he got this amazed look on his face and shouted out "Hey!  That was my birthday last year too!"...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113624219720498785?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113624219720498785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113624219720498785&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113624219720498785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113624219720498785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/birthday-boy.html' title='BIRTHDAY BOY'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113624202455357342</id><published>2006-01-02T14:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T14:47:04.570-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BLONDES DO HAVE MORE FUN!</title><content type='html'>Anonymous writes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have many stories, but here is a recent one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I teach at a Jewish school, and Purim is a big holiday for us.  We all dress up, including the teachers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My normal appearance is demure;  I have curly brown hair and I dress professionally.  Well, on Purim, I dressed in a completely different manner. I had a long blonde wig with bangs, a la Barbie, fake eyelashes, a black slinky outfit and I looked very different.  Some would say I was "hot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so much fun to see the reactions this elicited from everyone.  One of my seventh grade students shrieked every time she saw me and people at least did a double-take.  Others did not recognize  me at all and once they did, the adults laughed and complimented me on my new look.  Middle schoolers told me I should dye my hair platinum blonde as it "looked good" on me.  I had to reveal my true identify as I returned to my normal appearance the next day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most fun part of the day was the Purim skits performed by the teachers.  There was one part where the hero selects the heroine of the story, Esther, as his queen.  At the last minute, since they were short an actress, they shanghaied me to be a third female candidate in their rendition of "The Dating Game."  I created a personality called "Cecilia" who had a high voice and was a total ditz.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The unexpected side effect of this was that the entire population of the second and third grade boys fell in love with "Cecilia."  They followed me around for the rest of the day, declaring their love and desire to marry me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, the next day, when I returned normal, I had no fan club.  The desire for blondes continues to live strongly in the young generation!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113624202455357342?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113624202455357342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113624202455357342&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113624202455357342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113624202455357342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/blondes-do-have-more-fun.html' title='BLONDES DO HAVE MORE FUN!'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113617764814405717</id><published>2006-01-01T20:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T20:54:08.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NODULE?</title><content type='html'>I can believe the "Mutt" story.  I had a similar thing happen with a new student from England.  I called him NODULE all year long.  EVERYONE called him NODULE and he responded to NODULE.  His name was Nigel!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113617764814405717?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113617764814405717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113617764814405717&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113617764814405717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113617764814405717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/nodule.html' title='NODULE?'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18443475.post-113617755005951835</id><published>2006-01-01T20:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T20:52:30.070-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE NEW KID IS A MUTT</title><content type='html'>I had a new student and he was from Wales.  He told me his name was "Mutt."  I called him "Mutt" to his face and referred to him as "Mutt" in discussions with his parents.  I wrote "Mutt" in all the documentations and letters home.  All his classmates and the principal called him "Mutt."  Several months later I saw some paperwork forwarded from his previous school.  It said his name was "MATT" not "MUTT."  I asked him his first name again and he said I'll spell it for you.  It's  "M A T T", MUTT!" I should have caught on sooner because he called his classmate "Putrick."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18443475-113617755005951835?l=murphywren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/feeds/113617755005951835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18443475&amp;postID=113617755005951835&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113617755005951835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18443475/posts/default/113617755005951835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://murphywren.blogspot.com/2006/01/new-kid-is-mutt.html' title='THE NEW KID IS A MUTT'/><author><name>teacherx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017665572747663955</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
