My Japanese Teacher of English (JTE), Sato sensei, asks me to come up with stories that relate to the textbook often 5 minutes before we start class. This can be quite challenging because the text is super boring and whenever anyone looks at it you can literally see the glaze build up in their eyes.
Brian's comment made me remember this lesson, and I still feel the roadrash burning my face.
It was like this: The weather was perfect, so of course I had a midterm in an Anthropology course. While biking toward class, I saw Chris, so I pulled up next to him. He got this crazed look in his eyes, and it was understood that we would start racing. What ensued was not mutually understood. We got going at a pretty good speed, when I notice he is veering toward me and POW! He friggin side kicks me, and the next thing I knew I was sprawled out on the bike path in front of the Anthropology building, fellow bikers going around some poor jackass on the tarmac. Roadkill. But it was OK because luckily the right side of my face bore the full impact of the crash. Seeing red, I ignored his apologies, shook off the mental haze, and biked to class. Fucking Ben Hur motherfucker ass shit bitch! Ooooh, I would get payback! I was a minute late, and everyone looked at me, or rather they gawked at my abraised face, as I slipped into a vacant seat. I finished the test, and afterwards I went to the restroom to assess the damage. I had asphalt and dried black blood lodged in my scrapes, which I cleaned out at the apartment with lots of Q-tips and of course, hydrogen peroxide. It was only after I finished my 4 years at UCSB it dawned on me. Bikes are just not for some people, and by "some people" I mean "me".
My story blended seamlessly with that of the textbook, and the students actually paid attention and understood my English. Now if only I had a story to match every one of the the textbook's.