Clack-on. Clack-off. The Clacker!

Remember those toy clackers? Well, let me tell you a story.

I usually don't tell stories about our students here, but this one is far too good not to share.

A young man, we'll call him Bobby, is in our "Special Needs/Life Skills Room" (that's the room where the kids learn to cook, wash clothes, not eat paste or anything that came from an orifice - be it your own or someone else's). Because of the difficulties some of these students have, this room has its own bathroom.

Well, turns out that every time Bobby farts, he sharts. (kinda like a vurp but...) Every time. So one day they're in the middle of finding a new pair of underwear for Bobby, he's standing in the bathroom, naked from the waist down. He comes out of the bathroom.

Bobby: Mrs. Smith, I need a band-aid.

Mrs. Smith: Why do you need a band-aid Bobby?

Bobby: My penis hurts.

Mrs. Smith: You're penis hurts?

Turns out that while Bobby was half-naked in the bathroom waiting for his skid-free undies to arrive, he was playing with a toy clacker and...WHACK!! Caught the ol' General in between the flapping plastic balls.

Mrs. Smith (straining not to laugh): I don't think a band-aid is going to help unless you're bleeding, Bobby

Bobby then proceeds to examine his package right there in front of everyone for traces of blood.

Mrs. Smith: You know, Mr. Thompson (a male substitute-teacher in the room) has a penis maybe he can help!

I'm going to pause here for a minute. The above statement may be the absolute best passing of the buck I have EVER seen!! Politicians should take lessons from this women.

Mr. Thompson (ever quick on his feet): Well, I hit my penis with a clacker one and the pain went away after five minutes.

Bobby: Ok!

And Bobby resumes doing whatever it is one does while waiting for new tighty-whities to be brought.

And people wonder why teachers drink.