Odd Duck

I am not a racist person.  If you think that by being a wee bit politically incorrect (which I will be in the following post) is a be-all end-all that you can judge a person's character by, please stop reading this post now.

So, no, this post is not about people eating dog.  Although, as a follow-up to that, my lovely Japanese assistant did ask me if it is true that Chinese people eat fetuses.  How sick is that?  I promptly told her that what other's do is none of our business and that maybe fetuses taste good.  Who is she to judge?

Ew. Totally kidding.  I used it as a teaching moment to discuss how groups of people who have disagreements sometimes say things about each other that are meant o make the other group look bad or are meant to be hurtful.

This story is about French-Canadians.  Well, not all Frenchies, but specifically one odd duck.

I have met many wonderful French-Canadians in my life.  However, a large number of these individuals were the type of person one could describe as slightly strange, although not to the point where they cannot function in polite society.

Back to my story of today...

I am great friends with the amazing teachers who sponsored me on my practicum.  I worked my buns off for them--well, not literally since I gained 20 pounds in the 5 months--and they reciprocated my hard work by essentially employing me as their substitute for a year.

At the end of the year that I was a sub, there was a teacher barbeque that I attended with all the teachers from the school.  We were all sitting around, enjoying some finely crafted beef dips out of paper plates and bowls.  I was seated beside my former sponsor teacher whom I will refer to as Mama.  She was seated beside a teacher from the French immersion program, Odd Duck.

Mama: Um, that was very nice food.


Odd Duck: Oui, that was delicious.


Mama: Let's clear some room for dessert.  Can I put my bowl in your bowl?


Clearly, everyone else around understands that she is trying to clear the garbage from the table by stacking the paper bowls.

Odd Duck: I do not understand.  Bowl in my bowl?


Mama: You know. Like ***puts her hands one on top of the other**** bowl smoochie.


Odd Duck: (in a huff) Uhg, I am a happily married man.


With that, Odd Duck got up, stormed off, and left Mama with her jaw hanging open.  She turned to me, speechless.   Please keep in mind, this is after the teacher had worked with Mama for a year.

How weird is that?  I say, the Odd Duck is swimming in his own pond.