Well, THAT'S New

Hello, loves. It's been a while since I've checked in. Head above water and all that. But it's beautiful in Denver and tomorrow's Friday and it looks like I just might pass my classes this semester.

So, I've been around the block a few times as a college teacher, and as a result I'm usually not pleasantly surprised by things anymore. What I mean is, if there are surprises, they're not good. At times they're really negative. But lately I've had some humorous moments in the classroom and I thought I'd share.

The student population at my university is very diverse and multi-cultural. I never assume that English is anyone's first language and over the years I've learned to speak slower, write on the board more, simplify my slides and exercises, and try - try - to cut down on the idioms and sarcasm. No promises there, but I'm at least aware that I need to be more aware.

In one of my classes this semester, about half the students are from various middle eastern countries. In the past, there have been some, how shall I say, cultural issues because some male students have been disrespectful to me and/or amazingly dishonest with me. This semester, though, ladies and gentlemen alike are simply wonderful. They have brought me home-cooked food and asked about my trip to see Gama for her birthday, and even delicately asked about my "teeth" and my "mouth". You gotta love it.

But that's not what I've been pleasantly surprised about.

It's what they call me. They call me teacher.

I'm clear that I like to be called by my first name, but I understand that perhaps this is too informal for students. Sometimes I'm the very first college teacher that these students have - Lord help all of us - and a first name basis just feels awkward. In which case, they call me Mrs. W------- or Professor W-------.

Yeah, I know.

So, we've been in class for a million years and these middle eastern students say, "Excuse me, teacher. Does this look correct?" When I answer them they say, "Thank you, teacher!" When they email me they write, "Hello, teacher! I hope your mouth is better, teacher!"

It makes me feel like Jesus.

As in, hello, rabbi. I have a question, rabbi.

That's all kinds of blasphemous, but every day it happens and everyday I feel like I should be walking the dusty alleys of Jerusalem with my disciples in tow. I would look at them and say, "Who do you say I am?"