In the days when I taught literature, history, and Latin to a boatload of homeschoolers, I hired juniors and seniors to grade tests, mark essays, or help with some of the younger students. I also employed one student every year not only to grade essays, but to edit some of my own writing. Sometimes that student and I would read aloud what I had written, looking for mistakes and awkward usage, while at other times she would read silently and alone, writing out suggestions for us to consider together.
On one occasion I was teaching a composition class of seventh- and eighth graders. Standing beside me was a junior in high school—we’ll call her Maggie—who was assisting with the class. I began telling a joke to the students—to this day I can’t remember the joke—when suddenly I felt a whack on my shoulder. I looked over at Maggie, who had delivered that whack. She pursed her lips and shook her head. I laughed, and said to the class, “Well, I guess we won’t be finishing that story.” Later Maggie informed me I had told the joke in her class when she was younger, and she regarded it as inappropriate.
