Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind by Phillip Done Page A

was helping kindergartners write what they were thankful for on a piece of yellow
     butcher paper. I started reading the list:
    “I am thankful that my dad changed my sandwich from peanut butter and jelly to bologna.”
    “I am thankful I am not a turkey.”
    “I am thankful for my brain for making new dreams every day.”
    “I am thankful for dogs when they lick me.”
    “I am thankful for Comcast because now I can tape my shows.”
    The mom gave me a grin. I smirked back and walked on. In another corner of the room, Gail’s aide, Robyn, sat with the kindergartners
     taking dictation. They were making a class book entitled
How to Cook a Thanksgiving Turkey.
I stopped and listened as Robyn interviewed one little girl. She wore a white paper Pilgrim bonnet tied with fat black school
     yarn.
    “How heavy is the turkey?” Robyn asked.
    “A hundred pounds,” the girl answered.
    Robyn tried not to laugh as she wrote down the answer. “And how long do you cook it?”
    “An hour.”
    “At what temperature?”
    “Hot.”
    “Then what?”
    “You put a lot of oil on it.”
    “How much?”
    “About ten gallons.”
    I smiled, gave Robyn a wink, then walked on. A few minutes later I crouched down beside one of the kindergartners. His name
     was Scotty. He had just moved to our school. Scotty was wearing an orange headband covered with thunderbirds and some serious
     warrior paint on his cheeks. He was stringing a macaroni necklace.
    “Hi, Scotty,” I said. “Nice hat.”
    “Thanks.”
    “That’s a mighty nice necklace. Are you going to give that to your mom?”
    “No. She doesn’t wear macaroni. She only wears diamonds.”
    I smiled. “I see.”
    All of a sudden the principal’s voice came on the intercom. “Teachers, please excuse the interruption.”
    Gail clapped her hands in a rhythmic pattern. The children stopped what they were doing and clapped back. The classroom grew
     quiet.
    “Okay, listen up everyone,” Gail called out.
    Scotty stared intently at the round speaker on the wall.
    “Well,” the principal continued, “it looks like it is going to rain. So teachers, we will have recess inside today. Thank
     you.”
    When the announcement was over, the children got back to their projects. Scotty continued staring at the speaker.
    “Everything okay, Scotty?” I asked.
    He didn’t respond.
    I set my hand on his shoulder. “What’s the matter?”
    Then with huge eyes he turned to me and whispered, “Was that God?”

LISTENING
    T his week in class we made our family trees. When I asked the students about their heritage, Joshua reported that he’s half
     cowboy, Christopher claimed that he is one-fourth pirate, and Kevin (who is Irish) declared that he is 100 percent leprechaun.
     When Trevor told me that he was named after his grandfather, he looked disappointed.
    “Why the long face?” I asked.
    He sighed. “I’d rather be named after a football player.”
    Art Linkletter was absolutely right. Kids do say the darndest things. But that’s only the half of it. When kids say the darndest
     things — their teachers have the darndest responses. Here are some of the most popular:
The Fake Listen
    This response is used when you’re pretending to listen to a child but actually aren’t. I implement The Fake Listen when being
     followed around the blacktop at recess by a child who wants to explain every one of the tricks he can do on his new skateboard,
     or during Show and Tell when Laura is sharing her 50th foreign coin and has another 250 to go. The Fake Listen is similar
     to The Fake Applause. The Fake Applause is commonly utilized when a teacher is whispering with one of his colleagues during
     the school assembly and suddenly realizes that everyone is applauding so he starts clapping his hands, too, but really has
     no idea why.
The Buying Time
    Teachers employ The Buying Time when asked questions that they are not exactly sure how to answer. When John, for example,
     asked me in the middle