Teething Cures As Taught in Composition One

The class this semester, they crack me up.  To follow up last's week's tattoo-and-piercing conversation, we took on the subject of teething this evening to blow off a little steam before their midterm grammar exam.

Many of the people in my class, men and women alike, ranging in age from nineteen to probably early forties (my best guess - they have aged well), have children. Two, in fact, have four children each.  Another women is pregnant with her second child, and she found out today it is a second son.  She was mulling baby names for her in-utero offspring when another student, a bright young twin who was home-schooled her entire career up until now, brought up that her boss at Famous Dave's has sixteen children. We pondered the issues involved with that many children.  The youngest was an aunt before she was born.  They have a bus to get around.  And how the hell does anyone afford sixteen children when gas is over $60 a barrel?  I haven't heard of any hybrid buses lately. Obviously, the people with whom my students associate know more about money management than I, who bemoans the cost of the Emerald City at any turn to anyone who will listen.

My students know that the little angel is not what you'd call "a sleeper" and has been having some nocturnal rehearsals for toddler Romeo and Juliet lately.  They asked if she'd slept lately.  I told them she has been saying "owie" and pointing to her mouth. This confused me, because I (not so much a dentist), thought that she had all of her teeth.

Pregnant Student:  "Oh, no.  Those molars, they go all the way back, Ms. A.  You're in for it.  M's kids never had a problem, though.  She knows a secret."

Student Two (the one who had a belly-button ring through an entire pregnancy, which we discovered in last week's tattoo-and-piercing conversation):  "I have four children.  You need to put a little whiskey on the gums."

Student Three (M, who runs a daycare center and is now entering the classroom, late - a dockage of three points, but I overlooked it just this once, because we all wanted to hear her secret):  "WHAT?  You can be arrested for that."

Student Two: "Well, no one's come for me yet."

Me: "What's your secret, M?"  (all lean forward eagerly)

Student Three:  "Potato necklaces."

Me:  "WHAT???"

Pregnant Student:  "She does this all the time.  She's insane."

Student Four: (home-schooled twin): "I guess I could see that. They could chew on it, then."

Student Three:  "No, they don't chew on them.  They're just little babies. The potatoes have nutrients that just soak in and those teeth come right out.  None of my three babies had so much as a whimper."

(I consider giving extra credit to whoever can figure out the basis for such an odd practice, but decide that is probably unethical.)

Student Three:  "In a few days, they turn brown.  Then you just switch them out."

Me:  "Doesn't that attract, oh, bugs?"

Student Three:  "My mama did it on my and my sisters.  She also rubbed diapers on our faces to cure yeast problems."

Student Five:  "I heard some people rub the diapers on their tongues to cure thrush.  But you have to do that when they're really young."

(I begin to wonder if these people have little voo-doo dolls of me at home for when they get bad grades.  My palms begin to sweat just a bit.  My midterm is sort of hard.)

Pregnant Student:  "Yeah, I guess.  I've heard that.  Well, she does the potatoes.  Me, I just use Oragel."