I know exactly what most of you are thinking, but are too afraid to say.
Abe, you have lost your touch. What happened? You used to be so funny.
It's okay, you don't have to whisper anymore. I know, I know.
So, I'd like to say that I am not trying to be funny anymore; but the fact is, I am. Regardless of if I am trying to be funny, most of my humoristic energy is spent elsewhere... entertaining six-year-olds.
So, making adults laugh is kid's stuff. It's making kids laugh that is adult work! Six-year-olds don't understand sarcasm. They won't banter. Hyperbole generally flies way over their heads. There is no irony in the first grade and any wit I exhibit is met with clueless grins.
So, there is nothing left, right? That is what I thought at first, but I had it all wrong. And then it dawned on me: kids don't want dialog, they want a show! They don't want a Woody Allen movie, they want Home Alone! (But then again, who DOES want a Woody Allen movie? Maybe Woody Allen's mom? She is probably dead)
So, what is it that gets them laughing? Two things: 1. Falling, banging, getting hurt and disgusting sounds. (Okay, that was four things) 2. Generally acting like a complete and total moron.
So Cheeseboy, what is so difficult about that? You are king of moron. Moron is your middle name and "you are" is your middle initial. If I wanted to hire a moron, you are the first moron on my speed dial. You are the wind beneath my morons.
Enough. I get the point.
The thing is, first graders may not be able to smell sarcasm, but they can smell a fraud a mile away. If my face-plants are not believable, if my voice breaks while I am in character, if my goofy dance is just not believable - I am deemed a phony baloney. YOU try getting a laugh in a room full of jaded, dubious tots. They'll boo you off the stage like you're Kenny Chesney performing in Compton.
So, next time I speak with you, if I am not living up to the comedy sparks I normally produce, please feel free to visit me in my classroom some afternoon. I am putting my heart out there for those kids. My heart... and soul. But mostly my heart. And sometimes I hurt my head.
One last thing: Lincoln's legs were perfectly fine today. Dr. Google - you are dead to me!