Can we stop right now and have a conversation about calling one's teacher's "Miss"? Good, let's do that. I hate it. No one called me "Miss" when I was a waitress, why does it happen to me now? My sister loves these stories and glories in the Dickensian tone it gives to my day ("Please, Miss, may I have a hall pass? I had ever so much figgy pudding at lunch!"). You have four teachers, kiddo, you can manage four names.
"Miss, is it a stereotype just to call someone a Jew or a Mexican or
"No, there's more to it. If the word has an emotional punch because of
society's ideas then it's a stereotype. To call me white is no big deal, it's
what I am. But when you add that my hair smells like a wet dog, that's a
"Oooh, and it's a simile too, Miss!"
I am simultaneously charmed by his recall of figurative language and hurt that the alleged wet dog status of my hair was not challenged.