Sixth-grade teacher

Mrs. Fisher, the sixth-grade teacher, tells the class that today they’re going to have a spelling bee.
Instructing the first kid to stand up, she asks, “Robert, what does your father do for a living? Say
it nice and clearly, and then spell it out.”
“My father’s a baker,” answers Robert. “B-A-K-E-R-R.”
“That’s not quite right, Robert. Try again,” chides Mrs. Fisher gently.
“B-A . . .” says Robert, thinking hard, “K-E-R.”
“Very good. Now, Cecily?”
“Doctor. D-O-C-T-O-R,” Cecily says smugly and sits down.
“Very good. Herbie?”
Herbie stands up and says, “Shipbuilder. S-H-I-T—”
“No, Herbie,” interrupts Mrs. Fisher. “Try again.”
“Ship . . . builder. S-H-I-T—”
“No, no, no. Go to the blackboard and write it out and you’ll see your mistake.”
As Herbie heads toward the front of the class, Mrs. Fisher turns to the next child, Lenny, who
jumps up and says, “My father’s a bookie. That’s B-double O-K-I-E, and I’ll lay you six to one
that that dope puts ‘shit’ on the board.”