Pretty much every teacher has “The Voice” a gift to be used only upon the rare occasion that a student miscreant is just about to cross over the line. My teaching repertoire also included “The Finger.” No, not that ordinary finger much loved by the willfully stupid, generally used to indicate an automobile has displeased the giver of the finger.
I’ve known all along that both my version of “The Voice” and “The Finger” were genetically instilled by my father, and now I have visual evidence. After all, Daddy was a Marine in the invasion force of Okinawa. Donald Trump, eat your heart out!
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