Last year my fabulous team teacher had the brilliant idea of getting a class fish. If she was getting one, I'd get one. We all know how fourth graders feel about fairness. A couple of months into the school year "Mario" wasn't looking too good and, sure enough, I got the pleasure of flushing him a few days later.
I told the class about our loss and suggested that maybe we should have a funeral. They brainstormed what they would want it to be like. We ended up deciding to wear all black and make a shoebox tombstone that we put tributes and farewell notes in. (I had to veto the idea of flushing flowers down the toilet.)
All was going well until the kids were walking out the door and one of them looked up at me, sighed and said, "I can't believe we're having a funeral on my birthday."
Bad teacher! Very bad teacher!
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