Don't be trite to an eighth grader
When I was in eighth grade my dog ran out the back door and made a mad dash into the street. Here, his head was run over by a truck. The driver did not stop. He was dead. I picked him up and got blood on my favorite (cargo) pants. I got to school a few minutes late. The principal said "Mr. M you gotta set your alarm earlier" or something very close to this while maintaining the banality. I said "Actually, my dog was killed and I wanted to change out of my bloody pants." Shizzam. It would be cool if he remembered that and stopped saying obvious things.