Ms. Potts

My students are conspiracy theorists. They believe Mr. R is Ironman. They wouldn't leave him alone for three days straight, begging him to say, "After all...I am Iron Man." He refused.

After a week or so, and they'd forgotten about the whole thing, K challenged him to a fight. "Come on. I could take you," he announced. Mr. R paused for a moment--then he replied, "You're forgetting...I am Ironman."

I think it made K's life.

So now that they've got nothing to bother Mr. R about, they've taken to calling me Ms. Potts. Now that I realize they're not referring to the Teapot, and since I have no really good reason for their not calling me that (because Mr. R is no longer Iron Man to them), and because I think they're actually pretty hysterical, and I don't actually mind their disruptive side conversations, because they're actually pretty hysterical too, I've learned to respond to it.

Good bye Ms. Reasor. Hello Ms. Pepper Potts.