Marijuana On His Toes

Today in my third block, I had a pleasant conversation with a student: Please don't come in smelling so much of pot. 
--Of what? 
--Pot. 
--Of what? 
--Weeeeeeeeeed! Save it for after school. Better yet, don't do it at all. 
--Don't know what you're talking about, Ms. W. 
--Uh-huhhhh.

Another history teacher has one of my students who failed last semester. When this dear boy told him, "my short term-memory isn't so great," Mr. A responded, "well, sure, kiddo. Stop doing... what you're doing and you'll be fine."  

Today, in the back of my 4th block, a young man oblivious to my stares calmly took his Greece and Rome test while wearing knee socks adorned with marijuana leaves (actually, he fell asleep halfway through and his snores shook the trailer). When I noticed, I dropped my jaw so far that the whole first row of students turned around to see what was going on. They looked and looked, but there seemed nothing out of the ordinary to them. Boy with marijuana on his toes? Cool, that be cool. 

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But who am I to judge? As a famous president said,
"Some of my finest hours have been spent on my back veranda, smoking hemp and observing as far as my eye can see.” Would that my students do as much for education in the South as Thomas Jefferson did.

(Social commentary suspended for the duration of this post, temporarily done in by weed-socks)