The students were writing away, and after a few moments, several appeared done. Some, in fact, had already started talking on their own—you know, the ones who view the class rules merely as guidelines that are subject to interpretation.
So I reigned them all back in and asked if anyone wanted to share out to
the class. Hands went up all over the room, and I picked Richard to start. He
shared a memory of laughing hysterically at a Chris Tucker joke. And although we were spared the actual joke, enough students giggled in amusement because they too had seen something funny by Chris Tucker. I myself was remembering humorous scenes from the movie, “Rush Hour.”
It occurred to me that although I had given the students an option, I would
bet that the kids with their hands up are the ones who wrote about something
hysterically funny. If any students wrote about crying hysterically, this was probably not the forum they wanted to share out in.
Sure enough, student number two also recalled a hilariously hysterical moment between herself and her sister, something about a party—blah, blah, blah. I tune out at certain point. It can’t be helped.
Then I noticed Jarrell’s hand waving wildly in the air. “Ms. Tienda! Ms. Tienda!” he shouted. The boy could hardly contain himself. He was hysterically flagging me down, a live definition of the word I had assigned.
“Ok, Jarrell, you can be next,” I said, hoping to appease the boy. I could tell I had made his day by the way the smile just beamed from his face. He’s a pretty good writer and a sweet kid who wants nothing more than positive attention. Even his voice was animated as he began: "I--I was watching this comedian, Kevin Hart, and he was so hysterical!” Several students snickered, either at Jarrell's uncontrolled emotions, the mention of Kevin Hart, or a combination of the two.
“And then he talked about Sponge Bob!” Jarrell blurted out, pausing for more
of his own hysterical laughter. He could barely get the words out, but soon he composed himself and was ready to continue.
Now, unlike Richard, who only shared the name of a comedian he found hysterical, Jarrell was sharing the comedian’s joke with the class. I, however, was unfamiliar with Kevin Hart’s work. To my unfortunate dismay, I was not culturally aware of this next generation of young black comedians; nor was I aware of Kevin Hart’s particular content—although I should have had a clue. Few comedians these days—regardless of cultural genre—keep it clean.
Jarrell's infectious enthusiasm radiated as he panted out the rest of the joke. “And…and then he said Sponge Bob said, 'Let's play a game: ‘Duck, Duck, N***!'Hahahahaha!" And once again, Jarrell fell out laughing.
Yes, he said the actual n-word. No, I didn’t see it coming. That damn Sponge Bob intro threw me for a loop.
Jarrell, naïve young Jarrell, was so proud of himself and his hysterical share. I, on the other hand, was hysterically mortified.
The entire room went silent. My hand flew up to my mouth in shock. All eyes
were ping-ponging between me in my eye-popping astonishment and Jarrell with his clueless grin.
In my head, I was screaming: "AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!"
In reality, though, after an extremely tense long pause, I responded in a
calm quiet tone, “Um...not appropriate.”
Jarrell looked instantly crestfallen. I felt for the kid, but I tried to let him down easy.
“Look, Jarrell,” I began slowly and deliberately, “you cannot use that word,
even in the context of re-telling a joke.”
“But you said to write about something hysterically funny, and that part was
funny to me.” Poor kid was confused, almost tearful.
“I get that, honey. You can write that you found Kevin Hart hysterically funny, you can write that he told hysterical jokes, but please remember that you’re only in the fourth grade. What you cannot do in an elementary school is write about or share the details of his jokes, especially one using that word.”
“Oh,” he said pitifully, looking downcast.
My heart went out to him, so I polled the rest of the class. “Has anyone else seen Kevin Hart’s act?”
Several hands went up, some brazenly, some sheepishly.
“What?!” I asked outraged. “But you’re in fourth grade!” I reminded them. “Your parents let you?!” The students put their hands down and just all kind of grinned at me like the Cheshire Cat’s they were. Now, I remember watching Eddie Murphy’s act on the sly, but I was at least a teenager.
A friend of mine later told me, “I too laughed hysterically when I saw that Kevin Hart special! However, my kids did not watch with me.” Who knows how and why so many of my fourth graders watched Kevin Hart. But I still hadn't seen it, so I decided to check it out for myself. I looked up his routine on YouTube, using the keyword “SpongeBob.” It was a pretty funny bit. I might have even found it hysterical had I not already heard the joke retold to me by a nine-year old kid in front of my entire fourth grade classroom.
Meanwhile, back in my room,the air was still thick with tension. It takes a lot to retain control of oneself in a situation like this, but the stress is still there, and it manifested itself in raising my blood pressure. But this worked to my advantage in diffusing the situation. I heard one of the students whisper, “Look at Ms. Tienda—she’s turning red!”
I said, “Yes, I probably am turning a few different shades of red and pink right now. Remember, I’m the colored one in this classroom. Now let’s get back to work. Hysterically is only the first word.”
Word to Kevin Hart: Come laugh at my pain, man.
