Utah49, ssh, et all. Here is a story that was published in an abridged form a few years ago, thought you may enjoy the full version:
About 40 years ago my wife, who shall remain nameless to protect her identity, was a first year instructor who had only taught two lessons but knew the teaching manual inside out but was nervous because English was not her native language and she worried if all understood her.
A local high school rewarded their football team with a ski outing after a championship season, and my wife, who shall remain nameless etc., got six 200+ pound bruisers who had been outfitted with 210cm skis and ill fitting boots, as was the custom at the time.
She had them sidestep up the hill after explaining that they should balance on the balls of their feet and hold their hands like they were carrying a cafeteria tray and make a gate to step into the fall line and they should look ahead, not at their skis.
As these guys came down they sat back, same as they do now, and my wife, that beautiful young thing, who shall remain nameless so as not to embarrass her, hollered at them:
“Boys, you have to ski on your balls, SKI ON YOUR BALLS!!!”
As my wife, who shall remain, etc. etc., looked clueless at six high school kids rolling in the snow laughing uncontrollably, a merciful bystander took it upon himself to explain the English colloquialism she just uttered.
For the rest of the hour, every time she addressed the class: “Boys…” , the kids shouted in unison “YOU GOT TO SKI ON YOUR BALLS” .
My wife, poor thing, who shall remain nameless to spare her the agony, came to me with quivering lips and announced that she was through with ski instructing.
Suffice it say that for the next twenty-five years, my wife who shall remain nameless and whom I love dearly, became one of the finest and most popular ski instructors in our school.