And their nightmares are my fault

This week my fourth graders are reading a play from our curriculum. The play is about several fairytale characters that come together in a court of law to accuse the Big Bad Wolf.

Yesterday, when I introduced the story, I had to make sure and backtrack to see if everyone knew who The Little Red Riding Hood was and who Little Bo Peep was. As it turns out, only half of my class (that would be two students) knew the Little Red Riding Hood story and no one knew who in the world was Little Bo Peep.

So before we could get to reading the play, I had to tell the story of the Little Red Riding Hood. I sat on my teacher's stool, leaned forward, and must have entranced them with my amazing story telling abilities because after I finished, they clapped! Ha ha!

Next I had to explain who Little Bo Peep was. I pulled up the nursery rhyme on the internet (what did teachers do before the internet!??!) and started telling them all about it.

Except I had forgotten about what happens in this cautionary tale. In fact, I'm not sure I ever knew the actual story in all of its gruesomeness. And before I can even think to censor myself, I'm telling my innocent ten year-olds about how, although Little Bo Peep lost her sheep, she did find their severed tails hanging from a tree. True story.

As you may have guessed, this story didn't get applause.