My dad had a stroke last week and we spent some time at the hospital. During his stay, one of his former students came to visit him. (My parents were both in education for a long time. In a lot of positions so we have a lot of interesting acquaintances.)
My sister happened to be there which is probably the only reason this story got repeated. We have laughed for days...oh, Lord. Make me wise before I die.
The ex-student, we'll call him Mike, was telling old stories. Mike and The Big Boy grew up together...in fact, when I came home and told my dad I was dating TBB his comment was: "He's a good boy. Now, he spent more time in my office than he spent in the classroom, but he's a GOOD BOY." We are grateful for small favors.
But Mike is telling stories and he tells this one. Seems there was a teacher at the junior high school and his "thing" was writing sentences. Long sentences. Written lots of times. And Mike got in trouble for something and when he was assigned his sentences he realized...Mr. Teacher always took the sentences, glanced at the top page of untold hours of work, and then summarily dropped the sentences into the trash. So Mike had a plan.
He wrote 800 sentences, three lines each. And right in the middle he inserted two rogue sentences which read: "I will never act up in Mr. Teacher's class again because then I will beat Mr. Teacher's ass and he will send me to Mr. Country Girl's dad and I will beat Mr. Country Girl's dad's ass." Two sentences. In the midst of 800. None of which were ever read.
The next week there's an announcement over the intercom: "Mike. Come to the office."
Mike's not worried. He hasn't done anything. He gets up and heads to my dad's office and there sits my dad behind his desk. And the sentences are there. On the desktop.
My dad says, "Mike. Look at sentence number 432 and read it to me." And Mike picks up the papers and says, "I will never act up in Mr. Teacher's class again because then I will beat Mr. Teacher's blank and he..."
My dad interrupted him and said, "I said read the sentence. Boy. Read the sentence. Every word of the sentence, just like you wrote it."
So Mike did. Twice. Telling the story, he says that having to say "ass" twice while sitting in the principal's office was mortifying. Humiliating. He wasn't NEARLY as funny as he thought he was. And when he was done? This was 40 years ago, so my dad beat his ass. As they were wont to do in those days.
The reason we are all ROLLING in the floor?
This is our preacher. The reverend of our church. The man whose children are the best testimonials to devoting one's life to the Lord you will ever see. This man is a ball of fire, totally devoted to his faith and his beliefs, having overcome battles most of us never dream of. (He is severely dyslexic. To the point that we only use the King James Version of the bible because it is too confusing for him to try to learn another one.) He is smart and funny and energetic and inspiring and...a problem kid.
There may be hope in this institution yet.
My sister happened to be there which is probably the only reason this story got repeated. We have laughed for days...oh, Lord. Make me wise before I die.
The ex-student, we'll call him Mike, was telling old stories. Mike and The Big Boy grew up together...in fact, when I came home and told my dad I was dating TBB his comment was: "He's a good boy. Now, he spent more time in my office than he spent in the classroom, but he's a GOOD BOY." We are grateful for small favors.
But Mike is telling stories and he tells this one. Seems there was a teacher at the junior high school and his "thing" was writing sentences. Long sentences. Written lots of times. And Mike got in trouble for something and when he was assigned his sentences he realized...Mr. Teacher always took the sentences, glanced at the top page of untold hours of work, and then summarily dropped the sentences into the trash. So Mike had a plan.
He wrote 800 sentences, three lines each. And right in the middle he inserted two rogue sentences which read: "I will never act up in Mr. Teacher's class again because then I will beat Mr. Teacher's ass and he will send me to Mr. Country Girl's dad and I will beat Mr. Country Girl's dad's ass." Two sentences. In the midst of 800. None of which were ever read.
The next week there's an announcement over the intercom: "Mike. Come to the office."
Mike's not worried. He hasn't done anything. He gets up and heads to my dad's office and there sits my dad behind his desk. And the sentences are there. On the desktop.
My dad says, "Mike. Look at sentence number 432 and read it to me." And Mike picks up the papers and says, "I will never act up in Mr. Teacher's class again because then I will beat Mr. Teacher's blank and he..."
My dad interrupted him and said, "I said read the sentence. Boy. Read the sentence. Every word of the sentence, just like you wrote it."
So Mike did. Twice. Telling the story, he says that having to say "ass" twice while sitting in the principal's office was mortifying. Humiliating. He wasn't NEARLY as funny as he thought he was. And when he was done? This was 40 years ago, so my dad beat his ass. As they were wont to do in those days.
The reason we are all ROLLING in the floor?
This is our preacher. The reverend of our church. The man whose children are the best testimonials to devoting one's life to the Lord you will ever see. This man is a ball of fire, totally devoted to his faith and his beliefs, having overcome battles most of us never dream of. (He is severely dyslexic. To the point that we only use the King James Version of the bible because it is too confusing for him to try to learn another one.) He is smart and funny and energetic and inspiring and...a problem kid.
There may be hope in this institution yet.
Comments
Nice blog.