The worst part of the beginning of the year, worse than starting over, worse than the anxiety of uncertainty, worse than another damn year of school, was the awkward icebreakers that never seem to end. Even today, as a graduate with a job, as an adult, I still sometimes have to suffer through the triteness of, “Go around the room and say your name and something about you!” On what planet is this helpful to anyone? Fine, we should know each other’s names but I am not going to remember what 30 other people’s favorite song is when I am putting all of my energy into remembering their names, which I won’t do because it is impossible.
Classroom icebreakers will continue to haunt us well into adulthood and the worse part is we hardly ever say what we really want to. Teachers, you really don’t want to know what your middle school students like to do for fun. Here’s what I was really thinking in elementary school, middle school, high school and college when you asked us those loaded icebreakers.
What was your first pet?
Elementary: A dragon!
Middle School: Uuuuuuuuuuugh.
High School: Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.
College: Seriously? Still with this? Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.
What do you like to do for fun?
Middle School: I like to avoid giving Danny Santiago a hand job in the back staircase because I am not ready yet! Is that what you want to hear?!
High School: I like to give Danny Santiago hand jobs in the back staircase, is that what you want to hear?!
College: ORGASMS AND MARIJUANA. HOW ABOUT YOU, BRUH?
Why are you here?
Elementary:My mommy brought me here.
Middle School: ‘Cause all my friends are here.
High School: ‘Cause it’s the law, tbh.
College: Literally or existentially? Because I am about to have a nervous breakdown. Is this my true calling? Am I even good at this? Should I quit and become a nomadic organic jewelry saleswoman?! Is this an essay? How many pages double-spaced?
What are you reading right now?
Elementary: Hop on Pop, that’s the real shit right there.
Middle School:Goosebumps. Reader Beware. Don’t even play. Don’t tell me THAT DOESN’T COUNT, TEACH.
High School: Translating dick pics.
College: Translating dick pics from Tinder bitches.
What’s your major?
Elementary: Ummmmmm, dinosaur?
Middle School: Cute boys.
High School: Cute boys with cars.
College: Cute boys with money because I am in DEBT. Thanks for reminding me that my life is going nowhere and I have to be a sugarbabe because I thought ANTHROPOLOGY sounded interesting but the thing is Anthropology is not the same as Anthropologie the store.
What are your goals for the year?
Elementary: Learn my A-B-Cs and 1-2-3s, K?
Middle School: To get to second base.
High School: To not get pregnant.
College: To not get pregnant and meet Beyoncé.