I said to them "Write what you mean when you say the word home."
"Sorry, was that home or poem," one of the guys named Michael said.
"Home." Maybe I should have said poem. Anyway, this wasn't a laugh, strictly speaking, but I think did come from a place of trust where laughs are heard.
Michael R. sits in a cluster of tables that also includes Michael P. It took me a month to figure out which is which. Of course, asking them for help was a good idea. "I'm Michael R. because I'm closest to the door where I can run away," he said. Michael P., I've learned, is the other one. He sits with his back to where I am most of the time. When he turns his neck to say something to me or the rest of the class, the look on his face says good humour and good sense both.
Michael K. sits one table over.