TEACHERS
FATHER (meaningly)—"Who is the laziest member of your class, Tommy?"
TOMMY—"I don't know, pa."
FATHER—"I should think you should know. When all the others are industriously studying or writing their lessons, who is it sits idly in his seat and watches the rest, instead of working himself?"
TOMMY—"The teacher."
The Literary Digest offers each week a prize of fifty dollars for the best argument in compact form for better salaries for teachers. The editor of The Reporter humbly submits to the editor of The Digest this bit of pathos:
"What shape, madam, was the pocketbook you lost?"
"Flat. I'm a teacher."
The kindergarten had been studying the wind all week—its power, effects, etc.—until the subject had been pretty well exhausted. To stimulate interest, the kindergartner said, in her most enthusiastic manner: "Children, as I came to school today in the trolley-car, the door opened and something came softly in and kissed me on the cheek. What do you think it was?"
And the children joyfully answered, "The conductor!"—Harper's.
"We have just learned of a teacher who started poor twenty years ago and has retired with the comfortable fortune of fifty thousand dollars. This was acquired through industry, economy, conscientious effort, indomitable perseverance, and the death of an uncle who left her an estate valued at $49,999.50."
"Pa," inquired a seven-year-old seeker after the truth, "is it true that school-teachers get paid?"
"Certainly it is," said the father.
"Well, then," said the youth indignantly, "that ain't right. Why should the teachers get paid when us kids do all the work?"
While the school teacher was away at the annual meeting of the state association she sent all of her little pupils a postcard greeting. Little Edgar replied in kind and on his card wrote: "I hope you are enjoying our vacation."
See also Fords.