Forget the Novocaine, Doc - - I was a Teacher

FORGETFULNESS

It really bothers me when kids make fun of my physical appearance. One time I went to the aid of a female hall monitor who was having a tough time with a brawny boy.  He said to me: “Don’t bother me, you fat, old man.”  When he started to walk away, I commanded him to stop, but of course he didn’t. 

Wow! I was verbally abused and suffered age discrimination and insubordination in less than thirty seconds.  But, the part that bothered me the most was the “fat” part, because once again I was on a diet that apparently wasn’t working.

When I got thinking about the word  “old” that he used to describe me, I began to think once again about an event that occurred during my days of coaching girls’ track.  After teaching and coaching for a lot of years, I sometimes became forgetful. 

One Saturday we were preparing to go to the New York State Indoor Track and Field Championships at Barton Hall on the Cornell University campus.  The team was to depart from the Auburn YMCA.  I parked my car, on a diagonal, on the side of the street opposite the team bus.  As I got out of the car I left the door open in anticipation of quickly returning.  I opened the trunk to get the medicine kit and other essentials, herded the girls onto the bus, and gave the order to depart for Ithaca. 

About thirty minutes later, halfway to our destination, I was horrified to realize that I had left the door open, the trunk lid up, and the engine running. Although I began to sweat, nobody noticed.  After arriving at Barton Hall, I immediately called home.  “Barb,” I said, “I’m trying a little experiment.  Would you go down to the YMCA and see if my car is still there.” 

“What do you mean?” my wife said.

“Well, I left the driver’s side door open and the trunk up and the motor running.  I’m doing a study to see if people are honest.”  She hung up the phone without saying another word.

But I was right; people in Auburn are honest. 

This condition, forgetfulness, might be infectious, and I may have infected others.  One time during Regents exam week, four other teachers and I piled into Betty D’s car and went to Webster’s for lunch.  After lunch, we found that the car doors were locked and the motor was running.  The policeman who came to our rescue some 30 minutes later was a former student of mine who hadn’t done very well in my class.  He must have thought that it was my car or that Betty was “guilty by association” with me, because by the wide grin on his face and the I-guess-I’ll-take-my-time-attitude, I knew that it was get-even time.