The other day I was just minding my own business, teaching my writing class (Introduction to Academic Writing or some kind of garbage like that), when a teacher in another room started a movie with the volume turned up a little too loud. The dialogue wasn't clear, but the saccharine soundtrack was, and every once in a while it would fill the room with angst and longing.
I was talking about literature reviews or something more or less useless like that, when a particularly sentimental swell of symphonic goo distracted me, and I was forced to remark that, judging by the soundtrack, the movie must be awful.
"Is that a movie?"
Justin had sat in the front row every day of class for the entire semester. He wasn't a good student, but he wasn't the worst. (After the class turned in their first writing assignment I was convinced that he was an ESL student - you know, English as a Second Language? - until the class turned in their second writing assignment in which he decided to use complete sentences and real words.)
"Is that a movie?" he asked, genuinely bemused.
"I think so?" His question was so sincerely confused that, for a moment, I thought maybe I should have been wondering the same thing, is that a movie?
"Oh. I thought I was in a movie - that this was a movie - and that that was just the music playing during it."
Dude was totally serious.
And, you know, maybe the craziest thing of all is that I'm pretty sure he was sober.
Teaching freshmen is funny as hell.
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