Growing Up in the Shadow of a Model Student

Attending a small rural school where “everybody knows everybody” presents problems for the lackadaisical student unfortunate enough to follow a “model” student. My older sister was the darling of every teacher. She always did her homework, had beautiful penmanship, and followed all the rules. She never missed a spelling word until fourth grade when she forgot to cross the T in grandfather and didn’t dot the i in president. She was only called down for raising her hand too much and trying to give all the answers!

Needless to say, teachers held high expectations for me when I showed up in their classes three years later. “Oh, I had your sister in my class. She was the best student I ever had.” Not fully understanding the expectations that teacher held, I beamed with pride, thinking I was “teacher’s pet” by proxy. This would be good.

By day two in the first grade, I’d gotten over any initial shyness and been labeled a blabbermouth. I beamed with pride and couldn’t wait to share the good news with my parents. It didn’t take them long to straighten me out on that. Just a few days later, I learned Mrs. Crow didn’t approve of my putting my big yellow pencil up my nose. Not only that, she didn’t like me eating school paste. She was offended even after I pointed out it was my paste. It tasted delicious. She also was critical of my penchant for peeling my crayons and chewing the paper wrappers. The unfortunate teacher had difficulty understanding how the model student came from the same family as the one she was currently dealing with. I think the final insult was when I told her “My mother said she wouldn’t take a sick dog to Dr. Pugh. Mrs. Crow had the nerve to tell me I was “sassy, ” and let me know her father was a good doctor!”

I was offended at her attitude and reported back to Mother. Not surprisingly, Mother was horrifically embarrassed and cancelled out on her roommother duties at this Christmas Party Later that week.

I don’t think my brother suffered such high expectations when he entered the first grade three years behind me.

A Rose by any Other Name

teacherWhen the little girl started first grade, the teacher asked her name.

“Happy Butt.”

“Happy Butt. That’s not a name.  Let me check my records.”  She checked her records and came back.  “You’re name is Gladys, not Happy Butt!”

“Glad Ass, Happy Butt.  Same thing!”

Bungarendeen

2009-10-10-Avoid-the-plagueWhen warning the children not to eat potato salad that had been sitting on the counter for a week, or the need to clean and dress a cut, generally instructing them in infection avoidance instead of going into the specifics Bud would say, for example, “Don’t eat that. You’ll get bungarendeen.”  He was a nurse, after all, and didn’t know better.

My daughter was in high school; her teacher was discussing various dread bacteria.  Never hearing the one she’d been waiting for, she raised her hand.  “What about bungarendeen?”

She was rewarded was generalized hysteria.  When the teacher quit laughing, she said.  “You must be John’s sister.  He asked that same question three years ago.”

You a teacher an’ you don’t know…..

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Johnny gave a big snort, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Disgusted, his teacher sought to shame him.  “Johnny, what’s that on you sleeve?

“He looked at her coldly.  “You a teacher an’ you been to college an’ you don’t know what snot is?”