A ten year old public school boy was finding fifth grade math to be the challenge of his life. His mom and dad did everything and anything to help their son…private tutors, peer assistance, CD-ROMs, Textbooks, even HYPNOSIS! Nothing worked.
Finally, giving up they enrolled him into a small Catholic school to await another destiny.
At the end of the first day of school the boy walked in with a stern expression on his face, and walked right past the parents and went straight to his room -and quietly closed the door. For nearly two hours he toiled away in his room -with math books strewn about his desk and the surrounding floor. He only emerged long enough to eat, and after quickly cleaning his plate, he went straight back to his room, closed the door, and worked feverishly at his studies until bedtime.
The parents were not sure if they should comment on the boy’s extra efforts for fear of him losing this new found fervor, so they seemingly ignored it. This pattern continued ceaselessly.
One day the first quarter report card came out. Unopened, he dropped the envelope on the family dinner table and went straight to his room.
His parents were petrified. What lay inside the envelope? Cautiously the mother opened the letter, and to her amazement she saw a bright red “A” under the subject, MATH.
Overjoyed, she and her husband rushed into their son’s room, thrilled at the remarkable progress of their young son!
“Was it the nuns that did it?”, the father asked. The boy only shook his head and said, “No.” “Was it the one-on-one tutoring? The peer-mentoring?”, asked the mother. Again, the boy shrugged, “No.” “The textbooks? The teacher? The curriculum?”, asked the father. “Nope,” said the son. “It was all very clear to me from the very first day of Catholic school.”
“How so?”, asked his mom.
“When I walked into the lobby, and I saw that guy they’d nailed to the plus sign, I knew those people meant business!”
A drunken man who smelled like beer sat down on a subway next to a priest. The man’s tie was stained; his face was plastered with red lipstick, and a half empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes the man turned to the priest and asked, “Say, what causes arthritis?”