This morning as I was making my way over to Festival Foods on the service road that runs past Menard's, I came upon my first sighting of three "city limits deer", one still in fawn's dappled coat. They were looking very confused as to what their next move should be as most of their options would lead to disaster.
Having my Samsung digital camera with me, I took a couple of photos of them while I was at the stop sign and tried to print one at the beginning of this blog, but without a camera that can really "zoom" in on a subject, neither of the photos was usable as you would have a hell of a time finding them in the photo -- worse than a "Where's Waldo" !
As I made my left turn to go under the overpass, the deer wheeled and started up the hill towards the three lane traffic of Highway 53 North. I wonder where they are now and if they are still alive.
Brother Bob and wife Dorothy were in for a late morning brunch of just out of the oven popovers, fresh fruit salad, caramel/chocolate specialty coffee and a choice of orange or tomato juice. I ate too much.
My brother Bob and I, both having been teachers for years, got into telling "war" stories after brunch and I remembered -- out of the clear blue -- the story of the day I could no longer deal with a troublesome student that was in my over-the lunch- hour split section.
At lunch I sat with some of my male cohorts and got them to agree to help me keep the kid on the move for the final 20 minutes of the hour. by passing him on from one to another in a "snipe hunt" -- only this was not a snipe hunt -- I told the kid to go down to the art room and ask Mr. Owens for my fallopian tube -- venturing to guess that this kid would not know what a fallopian tube was.
Mr. Owens sent him on to the history teacher -- the history teacher sent him on to yet another teacher and the last teacher on the list was Marge Quaid, who taught 9th grade english in the room right next to mine. (She would not be let in on the ruse!)
So I straight-facedly sent the trouble maker out of my room, telling him to be back with my fallopian tube before the end of the hour or it would result in detention.
It got to be about nine minutes before the bell when I assigned my class to work a page of exercises in grammar. I posted myself near the small window in my door and waited for the messenger to arrive at Ms Quaid's door.
The situation got even better when I heard Marge announce to her class that she had a five minute film strip she wanted them to watch before the end of the hour.
Off went the lights in her room, and she took a seat in the very last of the row near the door. Perfect!
Three minutes went by before my unsuspecting patsy came waltzing past my door and entered the darkened room next door.
I slipped outside my own room and peered in her window to watch what happened next:
He went over to where Mrs Quaid was sitting, leaned over close to her ear and I could see him whispering something to her.
Her response was to sit bolt upright with stiffened shoulders. She then said something to him and pointed to the door. I moved to the front of my room.
The snipe-hunter re-entered my room, shrugged his shoulders and sat down in his chair. The bell rang. I dismissed the class.
My hunter came up to me from the back of the room and said:
"Gee, Mr. Heagle -- I really tried to find it for you, but nobody had it. Mrs. Quaid wouldn't even give me an excuse, She just told me to go to my room! anyway, Mr. Heagle -- what's a phillipian tube?"
It was all I could do to keep a straight face.
"Well, Bob, a Phillipian tube is a tube made out of a special glass that's only manufactured in the Philippines -- you'd best get going or you'll be late for your next class."
He left, Seconds later, Marge Quaid stuck her head in my door.:
"Heagle! You are crazy! What are you up to????"
My explanation left her laughing to tears.
I would like to state categorically that I left teaching of my own volition. I was not fired. I could have been had this gotten out, I suppose.