Third Grade Follies

Carolyn was the cutest girl in the class and I was always doing some childhood stunt to get her attention. We didn't have any ink bottles at our desk I could put under her pig tails, nor did I have the dream-come-true opportunity of sitting behind her, so I always had to make my impressions during recess.
One particular day I caught sight of her just as recess was ending and she was hanging up her coat before entering the class room. As she stretched up to put that coat on the rung it caused her dress to hike up some and gave me a view of those mysterious under pants that us boys were never supposed to see. It was such a situation that made me burst out those famous lines I had learned from my perverted friends and brothers...
I see London, I see France
I see Carolyn's under pants
I thought it was a great ice breaker line, but Carolyn had a very different reception to what I had said. She must have been schooled by my younger sister Roberta...Carolyn immediately headed into the class room and told on me to Mrs. Eschelman who made a quick snap of her head in my direction and had a look of fire in her eyes...I didn't know those words could create such passion in women.
Mrs. Eschelman excused herself in front of all the class and grabbed ahold of my collar..."Let's take a visit to Mr. Smith young man" she said as we started in the direction of the principal's office.
I hadn't been to the principal's office before, but I had the feeling Mr. Smith was a pleasant man given the few interactions I had with him from previous school years. Still, I had never been delivered to him as a delinquent so I wasn't sure what to expect.Upon entering the door Mr. Smith stood up tall and gave a stern look our way. I'm sure the body language of Mrs. Eschelman and the fact my collar was still firmly in her grasp let him know I had been up to no good. (Another thing not in my favor was the fact my two older brothers had made themselves known at the principal's door before me as well)
"How can I help you Mrs. Eschelman?" was his queery.
"Ricky has been looking up Carolyn's dress and spouting embarrassing poetry" came her reply. "I've got to get back to my class. Send Ricky back when you are done" she commanded, she then spun and whisked herself back towards my fellow classmates and Carolyn.
Mr. Smith showed me the chair in front of his desk and asked me to be seated. He then shut the door. I knew I was in for then. Nothing good happens behinds closed doors does it?
"You were looking up a dress were you?" He asked intently.
"Yes sir" came my reply. I was hoping the extra bit of respect and politeness of "sir" would help me out a bit.
"Was it an accidental peek? Or were you kneeling down, pretending to tie your shoes kind of peek?"
I must of had an instant look of guilt on my face because I have to admit that I was fully bent at the waist trying to get the best view I could...I couldn't muster a reply but I knew Mr. Smith was now convinced of my answer.
"Are you going to make a habit of this in the future he asked?"
"No sir" was my quick response.
"You'd better get back to class then...and make sure I don't see you in here again"
I ran back to class in quick order. I must admit that I made several more trips back to Mr. Smith's office but never for looking at underwear or for reciting bad poetry.

I have a sudden flash back of the second grade and my student/teacher inter actions with Mrs. Bircher. She was a rotund lady that tried to teach and I was an energetic/curious student who tried not to learn. I always did seem to have an experiment that I wanted to try out and one day I had the grand idea of putting a thumb tack on the teachers chair to see if a rotund lady could actually jump up off her chair instead of slowly getting herself up as Mrs. Bircher always did. On the appointed day I got into class and put said thumbtack in the middle of her chair while she was up and about getting her supplies ready and then I went to my chair to watch how my experiment played out. Mrs. Bircher would almost always do her talking and teaching from her desk once she had sat down so I was anxious to see if that tack would change her style. My anticipation heightened as she neared her desk and began her descent towards that tack....PLOP...nothing. No reaction what so ever.I was disheartened. What happened or didn't happen as the case may be?
I had supposed she had sat down so perfectly that the tack ended up being placed where the crack in her behind was and the tack, being so short, didn't do its entended purpose.My solution was to try two tacks on my next attempt so such a result wouldn't happen again.The next day I followed through on the two tack plan and sat watching for the outcome ...PLOP...nothing. I couldn't believe it. Was this lady oblivious to pain? Had she endured this before and knew to just sit through it all to dumbfound curious students? Not to be deterred I decided to use 4 tacks to make certain the experiment was fool proof.I must confess in retrospect I was an idiot to start this experiment in the first place, so a whole lot of me is relieved to report that even with 4 tacks on the chair I didn't get to see if Mrs. Bircher was able to jump up. Still, I wonder what she was wearing that protected her from my stupid curiosity???

School Daze Confessions....

With school soon starting up again I'm sure all of us can easily draw up memories of those special days in those educational halls and classrooms. Here is the start of a few stories to show you what a special student I was....

With school starting up again soon, I couldn't help but go back in time to relate some of the events that traumatized me while in the rooms of education during my youth. Mrs. Morris was my first grade teacher and I had been warned by my older brothers, Vic and Dennis, that she was strict and sour in temperment. I don't remember that first day of school, but I do remember one isolated moment when I became the main focus for every set of eyes in my class. I had been assigned to sit near the back of the class and in the middle row of seats. This was usually a good area for me to either lean forward, sideways, or backwards so as to blend into the bodies around me so I couldn't be seen by Mrs. Morris. In this near hidden state I could pull the grasshoppers from my pockets or whatever entertainment item I had dragged along for the day. On this particular day I apparently had nothing to occupy my hands and mind, so I was careless in hiding myself from Mrs. Morris while deciding to do the innocent, childhood activity of picking my nose. Mrs. Morris was able to scrunch her face up into several modes of hideousness depending on what was in her field of vision. When she caught sight of my finger embedded up into my notsril and buried to the first knuckle, mining for little green nuggets of nose ore, her face turned into the worst form of disgust I had seen all year. Her eyes went almost shut. Her forehead wrinkled downward, the corner of her mouth tweaked upward, her yellowing teeth clenched. Her nostrils flared and she started slowly shaking her head from side to side as if she were a bull getting ready to charge. She had stopped her instuctions to the class and the new silence caught the attention of every member in the classroom, who in the eon of silence, now looked up to see what had happened to the chatterbox. Upon seeing her contorted face all members of the class had to turn and see what she was looking at.
I had no idea what the proper ettiquette was for such situations. (If you know please enlighten me as I'm still not sure what to do under such situations)
So now here I was trying to decide if I should pull the finger out of my nose and show the audience my newest discovery, or if I should suddenly act as if I were asleep and then admit to the class that instead of sucking my thumb while asleep, I had the habit of putting my finger up my nose. I shrunk down in my desk, kept my finger in place and turned to several assorted shades of red in my embarrassment.
Mrs. Morris suggested I excuse myself and go the bathroom for some tissue. I quickly got up and headed for the door with my finger still firmly in place. Mrs. Morris started a path towards the door as well to intercept me before I could make my get away. Just before letting me get out the door she leaned down and whispered in my ear...
"Am I ever going to see that finger there again?"
I shook my head no, walked out the door, and quickly pulled my finger out to see if I had harvested anything of value...