Clustered in the classroom entryway today, three students and I are reading aloud Night by Elie Wiesel. I hear this from one of the readers: "One day when I don't even know was venting his fury, I happened to cross his path."
Come again? Taking one of the pages that's proven useful from Doug Lemov's Teach Like a Champion, I punch the error. I repeat out loud, "I don't even know was venting his fury," except I change my intonation so it sounds like a question. The by-now familiar subtexts of that question: "Is what you said what you really read? Does that actually make sense?"
"That's what's in the text," the student tells me, "I don't even know."
"It's Idek," another student responds, voice tinged with impatience. "That's somebody's name."
LOL. We all do -- though that's not an expression I've associated before with this Holocaust memoir.