by John Pearson
Later,
Dr. Ruth
Date: Wednesday, February 4, 2004
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Closing arguments
Hey dude, You’re absolutely right, Rejoice IS, for all intents and purposes, the Anti-Lucifer! Which leads me to ask, are you keeping a graph of my GOOD data points to go with the bad plot? Rejoice, Pinar, Xander, Anita, and all the other bright lights? It seems only fair.
Your son is about the same age as my students, right? Does he argue with just about everything you say? Some of my kids will contest even the simplest statement! I don’t know if they’re just trying to waste time or if they really believe what they’re saying, but either way, it is incredibly annoying!
Last week, when we were doing a lesson on inequalities (greater than and less than), I told the kids to think of the sign as an alligator’s mouth. The mouth always faces the bigger number because an alligator always wants to eat the biggest thing it can. Zaphonalia immediately started up with, “Nuh-uh!! What if he’s on a diet?” (Not that Zaphonalia would know anything about diets — she’s gotta be pushing two bills.) I told her that as far as I know, the only diet an alligator would ever be on is the South Beach Diet — whatever it can catch on the South Beach, it eats.
Yesterday, we were doing word problems that involved elapsed time. Many of the kids don’t have a firm grasp on the concepts of before and after, much less linear chronology. Here’s an example of our problems:
Charlie left the school at 3:30. It takes him 20 minutes to walk home. What time will he get home?
A lot of kids picked 3:10 as their answer. I tried to explain how someone could not leave school and then go backwards in time to get home BEFORE they even left the school. But Rose and Ja’wane stubbornly insisted that it could be done. “The Flash could do it!” Ja’wane stated matter-offactly. While tempted to give the boy extra credit for his insight, I felt obligated to point out that the problem was about some kid named Charlie, who most likely does NOT have the Flash’s ability to run fast enough to reverse time. Ja’wane immediately responded, “Do you watch the Justice League cartoon?” And then I had to steer everyone’s focus back to math.
Today, we talked a little bit about eclipses as part of our solar system discussion, and I was faced with the latest example of pointless arguing. I warned the kids that they should never, ever look directly at the Sun, even during an eclipse. Thomson, who was in a foul mood, and just looking to spite someone, mumbled, “I stare at the Sun every day!” Not impressed, and in a foul mood myself, I answered, “Oh, well then I guess you’ll be blind soon, and you’ll never be able to see again. Hope that works out for ya!” I doubt that improved his mood, but I felt a little better.
Speaking of the solar system, I’ve got a good one for you. During our discussion of the individual planets and their properties last week, Alex asked me a very interesting question. He had noticed that Saturn is not the only planet to have a collection of rocks and dust circling it. So he raised his hand and asked, “Mr. Woodson, does Uranus have a ring around it?”
I could tell from the serious looks on all of the kids’ faces that this truly was a question of planetary information and not one of personal hygiene, and I felt a little ashamed of the giggles welling up inside of me. I managed to croak, “Yes, I think it does have a small ring, Alex. Thanks for asking.”
I’ll let them get to high school before introducing the joke about what toilet paper and the Starship Enterprise have in common...
Later,
Perry Mason
Date: Friday, February 6, 2004
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: What an incredible smell you’ve discovered!
Hey dude, You don’t know that old joke? They both circle Uranus in search of Klingons. Yes, beam me up, Scotty, there’s no sign of intelligent life down here.
Remember me telling you about Harry, the artist formerly known as “Baby Boy?” He hasn’t been in class for about two weeks now, but he hadn’t officially withdrawn from the school, either. Until today, that is.
Mrs. Swanson and I were on our way to the office after dropping our kids off at music and art when we encountered Harry and his family. His mother was with him, as were a couple of sisters, and an uncle. The uncle seemed a little unsteady on his feet, and my first impression was that he must smoke twenty packs of cigarettes a day to reek so strongly, even from a distance. You know how there’s that telltale smell that usually accompanies a chain-smoker — smoke and spearmint, each trying to overpower the other? This guy had an odor that was stronger than anything I had ever smelled before.
Harry’s mother had withdrawal papers, and after we had signed them, the whole family set off to hunt down the sisters’ teachers. I know what you’re going to ask. Was either of the sisters ever known as “Baby Girl?” Maybe “Fe’Male?” I have no idea, and I didn’t ask.
When Kelly and I were on our way to the office again, and out of earshot, she remarked, “Wow, that guy really smelled like pot!” My mouth smoothly replied, “No kidding,” while my brain thought, “So THAT’S what pot smells like!” (I plead the sheltered life defense one more time.)
Somehow I wound up in Uncle Stinky’s presence once again about ten minutes later. He asked me what else they needed to do besides getting our signatures on the withdrawal papers. I, meanwhile, was doing all I could not to fashion my tie into a makeshift breathing mask, because this guy was REALLY ripe. And this time, he was standing even closer to me, which didn’t help matters at all. I did manage to answer his questions and keep a friendly expression, however, and I don’t think he noticed my eyes watering or my nostrils turning inward on themselves.
I’m sure that you probably know what pot smells like, but I can now at least confirm for myself that that smell hovering around Viggo was not dope. Every time I would go into his cubicle over in the production area, I encountered some funky odor that I could never identify. I always wondered if he might be firing up something other than ceramics. It must just have been regular, good ol’ unsweetened B.O.! What a relief!
Talk to you later,
Half-Baked
Date: Tuesday, February 10, 2004
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Have duster, will travel
Hey bub, So what if I’m the only guy you know who’s never smelled pot before? I’m probably also the only guy you know who cleans his bathtub with a putty knife.
While we were switching classes this morning, and my second class was beginning to enter my room, I noticed Esteban get out of line and hand something to Mrs. Swanson. A few minutes later, after he put up his backpack and sat down at his desk, he got back up and approached me. He was determined to give me the same thing he had given Mrs. Swanson, which turned out to be a business card.
“Working on the side now, are you?” I asked him. He answered in a serious tone, “No, it’s for my mom.”
I looked at the card, and sure enough, it was for his mother, who apparently runs a maid service. Esteban is a good son, no? I mean hey, the kid can’t ever seem to bring his homework or focus in class, but at least he can shill goods and services for his mother.
So if you ever need someone to clean up that pigsty you call an apartment, I can put you in touch with the right people. Just give me some advance warning, because it might take a while to learn the price.
“Esteban, how much does your mother charge to clean an apartment?”
“FOUR DOLLARS!!”
“Really? That’s all?
“FIFTY-TWO DOLLARS!!!!”
“Well, which is it?”
“NINETEEN NINETY-NINE!!!!!”
While Esteban’s screaming was all in my head (at least today), Ralph’s was not. You want to hear a completely surreal experience, this was it. Rafael’s mother showed up in my doorway this afternoon, when I was on the other side of the room. Ralph, who sit
s near the door, was the first to notice her. But instead of calling out, “Mr. Woodson, there’s somebody at the door!” or “We have a visitor!” or (Heaven forbid) actually continuing to do his work like he’s SUPPOSED to when we have a visitor, he yelled out “CUSTOMER!!” at the top of his lungs. I have no idea where THAT came from. Maybe his mom runs a business, too. Or maybe he’s just practicing for a summer job as a short-order cook in a noisy diner. As long as he doesn’t need to have skills in math or reading, I’m sure he’ll do just fine.
Later, John Trepeneur
Date: Thursday, February 12, 2004
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Cupid is as Cupid does
Hey Fred, I have no idea if Esteban’s mother cleans cubicles or not. You can call the number on her card and find out. I’m sure Larry would love to have someone clean up after him, but I think Paul might take offense that you think his workspace is so messy.
Today was a party day at the school; we celebrated Valentine’s Day. Since V-Day is actually on Saturday, AND since tomorrow is a student holiday, we had to celebrate a bit early.
It was fun, and I now have enough candy to last until Christmas. Mrs. Swanson and I celebrated in our own rooms, but there was a pretty constant flow of kids going back and forth between our portables. The kids had all brought cards and/or candy, and shortly after lunch we let them start passing out the goodies. Mrs. Swanson brought cards and I had gotten a few bags of Hershey’s Kisses (the kind with the almond in the center — the best!), so no one’s bag was left empty.
I received several Harry Potter valentines, a few Spiderman cards, and even a Scooby-Doo or two. Ralph gave me a lovely (if not exactly timely) card that said, “Happy Holidays and best wishes for the New Year!” Anita gave Mrs. Swanson and me teddy bears, and Susan gave us each a mug with hearts on it. I also got boxes of chocolates from Maria and Kari. The highlight, though, was a hand-made card from Pinar, and I have to share what she wrote. It said:
Dear Mr. Woodson,
I hope you have a nice Valentine’s Day!!
Even though you are a man, Valentine’s Day is for everyone to have love.
Then on the back was the cryptic (yet heart-felt) comment,
Love always flies up to you, and pretty soon so will you!!
So despite my masculinity, I can STILL enjoy the holiday and maybe even sprout wings? Score!!
So have you got any plans for Valentine’s Day? My plans include eating a box of Hamburger Helper and watching some pro wrestling. And how is this different from any other Saturday night, you may ask? Well, that’s a darn good question. I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as I come up with an answer.
Have a good one,
King of Hearts
Date: Wednesday, February 18, 2004
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: What rhymes with nice, but isn’t?
Hey dude, I’m starting to get a little worried about the ol’ franchise over there. Yes, I realize that the heart is associated with Valentine’s Day, and yes, I understand the heart’s function in the human body, but you’re telling me Carol and Nancy actually answered their phones, “Blood Pumps Unlimited” all day on Friday? You’re kidding, right??
Well, speaking of weird things associated with the body, something was really bugging me today, in the literal sense. It seems the school is going through an epidemic. There’s been an outbreak of lice.
Sally got called to the office yesterday after lunch. She was in Mrs. Swanson’s class at the time, but the note from the nurse’s office came to me. It said that Sally had gone home with a case of lice (NOT the same as going home with a case of Heineken) and that I would need to bring my homeroom class by the clinic the next day (today).
Naturally, when I first read the word “lice,” my hair started itching, big-time. I remember last year when there was a lice scare in the library, and the librarian started soaking herself in Lysol every ten minutes. Hmmm...Lysol = Lice-all? Coincidence? I think not.
Anyway, this morning, first thing after lock down, I took my class to the clinic. Sally was back with us — I guess there’s no 28-day rehabilitation program for lice. One by one, the nurse checked out all of the kids. She had them stand in front of her, while she expertly ran her fingers through their hair. Some of the kids with almost no hair, like Xander and Thomson, she barely glanced at, but it was clear that the girls with long hair were most at risk.
After all of the kids had been examined, I had the nurse check my hair, too. It had been a while since anyone had picked the nits out. Definitely a fun experience, down on one knee, being searched for head-lice while all of my kids looked on expectantly. Thankfully, I was given the all-clear sign, and that was quite a relief.
We had one casualty, though, and that was Jessica. She had to be sent home with the same treatment Sally got yesterday. Later, Miss Lake told me that she had taken her lock down class to the clinic this morning also (Sally is in her lock down class). Two girls from that group also had lice and had to be sent home.
Come to find out, this all apparently started in one of the kindergarten classes. Nearly half of the class was sent home yesterday. Sally’s little sister is in that class, and you can just follow the trail.
I did learn a new word today. If you’re ever on Jeopardy! and the clue comes up, “This is the clinical term for lice,” you can respond, “What is Pediculosis, Alex? Now give me Married Popes for $1000.”
Another tidbit that the nurse told me was that lice are repelled by hair spray and gel. People that do up their hair stiffly are generally safe from the little critters. So tomorrow, I’m thinking about coming in sporting the Pat Riley look. At least you can tell Dick Lorenzo that he’s safe from head bugs. That guy must use a bottle and a half of L.A. Looks a day.
Later, Vidal Sassoon
Date: Friday, February 20, 2004
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Rules of Engagement
Hey buddy, As a kid, I learned the same thing you did — lice could only be spread by hat swapping. But our nurse told me that the little critters can actually jump from one person to another. Still, you’re probably wise not to share ANY articles of clothing with Larry. Ever.
Today was Alex’s last day. I’ll really miss him, because he’s a great kid. I’ll admit, when kids like Mark Peter and Lucifer leave, I don’t mind so much, but I hate to lose someone like Alex. On the other hand, I have to remember that it’s really a step up for him and his family. This IS a lowincome school with most of the students coming from local (crappy) apartments. Alex’s dad had been taking classes at a community college, and I guess they paid off because he got a new job, and they’re going to move into a new house up in Plano. So while I’m sorry to see Alex go, I’m happy for him as well, and it was the same way with Ariel.
Back to the current inmates. Plakton and Ja’wane got into a fight today. With each other, of course. We were coming back from recess, and I had already entered the classroom, ahead of the kids. I turned around in time to see Ja’wane shove Plakton, and before I could get back out there, Plakton had retaliated with a punch to Ja’wane’s arm.
After breaking up the fight, I got the other kids settled and working on something, and then I had a talk with my two wannabe pugilists. I told them, “Listen up. First rule of Fight Club, there IS no Fight Club. Second rule of Fight Club... Go stand in the corner.”
Up until today, I had been relatively lucky in that I hadn’t had to deal with many physical fights. At least not between two boys. When Mark Peter tackled Jessica (We was playin’ football!), that was an easy fix because he was so totally at fault. With Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, er, I mean Plakton and Ja’wane, they were both at fault, so we’ll probably wind up suspending them both for a day or two.
I’m reminded of what a great disciplinarian my dad was with my brother and me. One incident in particular has always stayed w
ith me. I think I was probably about 10 or 11, which would make Zack 6 or 7. The two of us were fighting over this cheap red plastic comb that one of us had gotten in a McDonald’s Happy Meal. I think the handle had an image of Hamburgler on it, and for some reason it was very valuable to each of us.
I’ll never forget my dad, channeling the wisdom of King Solomon himself, speaking the words, “Gimme that thing. I want to comb the hairs in my butt.”
I have in my mind’s eye a slow-motion image of the comb dropping to the floor, spinning end over end, as Zack and I simultaneously let go of it. And to my knowledge, neither of us ever touched that comb again.
Now, if I could only make that kind of impression on my own kids, I would be set.
Talk to you later,
M.C. Hammurabi
Date: Monday, February 23, 2004
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: How many fingers am I holding up?
Hey bud, Yes, my dad is quite the character. You’ll have to meet him someday. As he always says, he’ll be the most popular loon in the old-folks home someday.
And I’m really not sure which is harder to believe — that you actually told that Hamburgler comb story while Reggie was around, or that he laughed and joked right back! You must be doing something right, buddy! Pretty soon you will be on the “Top Performers” list — going to lunch with Bert and Reggie, hearing all the company secrets, getting to use the “3” setting on the boardroom oscillating fan.
So Reggie suggested a penalty box in my classroom, huh? That’s actually not a bad idea, though Plakton and Ja’wane weren’t exactly guilty of high-sticking.
