I was teaching a lesson on the Tricks of the Nine, and we needed our scissors. I look over at Joe, who has his scissors very close to his head and see a small clump of hair, unattached, sitting on his forehead. I was beyond upset. This was the letter I received when I sent him to time-out.
"I did something bad and I don't know why I did this. I don't want to end up like a bad kid and I'm verey sorry that I cut my hair. I like school. Its somthing that you could learn from and have fun with people. You could learn reading, since, social studies, math, languge. But I think your the best teacher ever. But Im not happy and either are you."
That's right. I'm not happy, either, Joe.
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