I called for three students to appear before me as delegates, and six came. It didn't matter whether six or even ten. I sat down in my pajamas, rolled up my sleeves, and starting questioning.
"What's the meaning of grasshoppers in my bed?"
"What's a grasshopper?" asked the student in front of me, in a much too casual tone. It wasn't just the principal at this school with aversion to direct and honest dialogue.
"If you don't know what a grasshopper is then I'll show you." But unfortunately I'd swept up all the grasshopper remains and not a single specimen was left. I called the janitor back and told him to go get the grasshoppers. He replied that he'd already dumped them in the rubbish heap and asked if he should pick them out. I told him yes, and he hurried off. After a while he came back with ten or so on a sheet of paper. "I'm sorry, but it's dark out and these were all I could find. I can go pick out more for you in the morning." This janitor too was an idiot. I picked one up and showed it to the students. "This is a grasshopper. How could you grow up not knowing what a grasshopper is?" A round-faced fellow on my left refuted me audaciously with, "That's a long-headed locust." I first berated him for speaking in the local dialect while addressing an instructor. Then I threw in a sarcastic remark on their local speech that went over their heads and landed flat.
"Long-headed locust or grasshopper, what were they doing in my bed? I don't recall asking anyone to put them there."
"No one put them there."
"If no one put them there, then how did they get there?"
"Long-headed locusts like warm places. Most likely they went in there on their own."
"Nonsense! Grasshoppers don't gather as guests in one's bed. What's the idea here? Fess up!"
"How can we fess up to something we didn't do?"