I was working at a fabulous prison camp in the visiting room one day, eight months pregnant. I was waddling around keeping my eye on everything. I had been there a while (about 8 months... DUH!) so the kids knew me. They drew me pictures and showed me their new clothes when they came in. Some kids even knew how to say my name. (That is a feat as there are a lot of letters in it.)
On this particular day, one little boy kept calling me "Teacher".
"Look at this picture Teacher."
"That is my mom over there Teacher."
"Look Teacher, Grandma bought me and Mommy cookies."
He was cute.
I walked near his mom, the inmate he was visiting, and he said "Look Mommy, there is your teacher."
She looked at him. Then she told him, "No. That is not a teacher. She is a police lady."
He looked confused.
He argued. No, I had to be the teacher.
Back and forth. Teacher. Police lady. Teacher. Police lady.
He asked me. And I confirmed. Police lady.
Still, he didn't believe it.
Finally, his mom asks him how come I can't be a police lady.
"Because she is too fat to be the police." he says.
And there you have it.