As they work on a Christmas storybook
Boy: "Ms. C, do you think this looks weird?"
Me: "I don't know; does it?" (I am looking at a stick man--or, more precisely, the head of a stick man. There's not much to comment on.)
Boy: "Don't you think it has too much charisma for a poor boy?"
Boy: "This deodorant that he sprayed on me--it smells like my aunt's house!"
After discovering that my stapler actually staples in reverse (prongs bent outward instead of inward), the 8th graders decide they each need a souvenir staple on a Post-It, which also needs to be autographed by me
Me: "Have you ever had a teacher autograph so many things for you before?"
Boy: "You'd better get famous!"
At lunchtime, two of them tell me their brilliant plan: to be my bodyguards once I find this predicted fame.
Boy: "And we'll get paid."
Me: "Well, you'd better start lifting weights."
Boy: "You need to get famous today, because I need that money tomorrow."