Last night, the conversation I had with a friend drifted toward recollections of school. I ended up telling her stories about my first grade teacher, Ms. Jensen. More accurately, Ms. Jensen was my nemesis. My step-father would describe her type as an ‘officer’s bored wife looking for something to do.” It was 1976 and my step-father was stationed in Germany. That should explain most of the situation pretty well.
Ms. Jensen was the kind of teacher that had no business watching children. Her thoughts on education were pretty lame to say the least. She once told my mother that because I was taller than most students that she would promote me to the next grade. Ms. Jensen was going to do this even though my grades were not up to standard. My mother’s response was outrage. If her son didn’t meet standards, then he should be held back regardless of his height advantage. This meeting was followed by my mom supplementing my education.
My weak points were in math. At the time, the lessons revolved around counting coins and math basics like addition and subtraction. Mom would show me a handful of coins and ask me how much. After a fews weeks of drilling me like this, I was able to quickly rattle of the amounts in her palm. This would begin the battle of wills between me and Ms. Jensen.
One detail no one took into account was my capacity to become bored with repetitive tasks. Once I had a skill learned and mastered, I wanted to move on to the next skill set. However, a class moves together and Ms. Jensen didn’t know how to deal with a restless student. I wandered the classroom helping other students with the lessons. Rather than capitalize on the assistance, Ms. Jensen punished me.
Ms. Jensen was creative with her discipline. In my class, we had discovered the curiosity of Elmer’s Glue. We would spread a little on our palms and let it set. Then we’d peel the layer of glue away like skin. The glue picked up the impression of our palms. Ms. Jensen caught two girls in class “wasting glue.” She had them stand face to face, spread glue on their palms, and then press their palms together. They were supposed to stay that way until the glue dried. Even I could see how pointless that punishment was. The girls ended up with a cool double-impression.
Her solution for my wandering ways was to tie me to my chair with yarn. It was a loose loop, but a restraint none the less. When I would talk out of turn or without permission, Ms. Jensen would tape my mouth shut. I spent much of the first grade tied to a chair with masking tape on my face. The rest of the time I spent plotting ways out of bondage.
The tape was easy, but tasted foul. I simply licked the tape until it peeled from my face. By the time I was done, the tape waved from a corner of my mouth like a victory flag. Slipping the yarn took craft and bit of Houdini channeling. The loop was loose enough that I could slide out from underneath. This had the extra advantage of putting me under my desk. I used the cover of the desks like a tunnel and made my way to the other students.
When I was caught, Ms. Jensen would march me back to my chair. The tape and the lash were reset. Then I’d wait patiently for the time to be right for my next escape attempt. [Cue the Bernstein theme.] The image would have been properly complete if I had a rubber ball. As a matter of fact, the thump-a-thump of the ball probably would have driven Ms. Jensen into early retirement.
That is the best man!