I have a student named Jack. He's not a current student. He's one of the best kinds of former students--the kind who has outgrown your class but still makes sure to walk by your classroom while he's running errands for his 8th grade teacher and pause to give you a big smile and a wave from the hallway. One day he said, "Hi, Wheatzie!" I was just inside my classroom door, placing a stack of copy paper on my shelf. (When kids bring copy paper in as a donation to the school, we're supposed to take it to a common area for all the teachers to share, but instead, I hoard mine. It causes a few dirty looks toward the end of the year when all the other teachers are desperate for it and I'm, like, mysteriously rolling in it, but whatever. My stuff gets copied and theirs doesn't, so who's winning? Hmm?) "Hi, Jack!" I responded, looking over my shoulder to return his smile. "Don't say that in an airport!" he retorted, l