| two stories about third grade and this friend i had- part two |
hi hi hi.
sorry, we're back.
so, last we spoke, i was telling you of my friend justin jordan and the light he brought into my life. the other story about him that i NEEDED you to know concerns science class.
specifically, this story is about the life cycle of the butterfly.
so, we were in science class and our teacher was having us take turns reading aloud from the science book. Science class occurred in "learning pods" and we were broken into groups of 4 or 5 and the desks were put into little clusters with everyone facing each other. This particular day, Justin Jordan was sitting directly across from me. This will become important later.
So we're reading, we're reading...blah blah blah caterpillars blah blah, I take my turn and read to everyone the passages about the larvae stage, someone else goes, and then it is Justin Jordan's turn.
This particular day was one of those heady, weighty, perfumed summer afternoons that one can only experience at a certain proximity to the Mississippi river valley just before it starts to think about dumping itself into the Gulf of Mexico. My grade school was not air-conditioned, and during this mid afternoon class heads were definitely drooping in humidity-induced catatonic states.
Justin began to read, plodding along, informing us about some Big Changes in the life of the butterfly. I was watching his face, because (and I know this is weird), I've always liked to watch people read aloud. It's interesting to me to see how engaged they become facially, to see them see the words, and sometimes to witness a line making sense half a second after it leaves their lips- a mini delay that can be the source of delightful amusement or irony for me. (" 'DON'T YELL AT ME,' Gerard said quietly. Oh. Oh, oops. 'Don't yell at me,' Gerard said quietly." )
It's not as creepy as it sounds. Promise.
Anyway, so it could stand to reason that I was the most alert kid in the class at this point (AND MAYBE OFTEN AS I AM KIND OF HIGH-STRUNG), which I say just to provide myself a decent excuse for what happened next.
"When the larvae are ready to go on to the next step in the life cycle, they enter a phase known as the pupa."
Except JJ did not say pupa like you or I or the teacher would choose to say it. We'd say it like this: PYEW-pah.
He said: POO-pah.
Which we all know is not right.
He knew it wasn't right too, so he quickly tried to correct himself. Over and over and over.
"POO-pah. No, wait. poo-PAH. No no no, wait. POOOOH-pah. NO...WAIT. POOPAH. NO! Waaaiiiit...Poo.Pah. Nowait!"
Friends, this went on for some time. During the first few movements of the staccato symphony of Poopah and Nowait, I began to giggle. Unfortunately, Justin Jordan is many things, but a quitter is not one of them. He persevered.
"Poopah. No-wait. Poopah. NOWAIT. Poopah. No- waiiiitt..."
My giggling became more intense. I tried to muffle it by coughing, which only served to make it sound like I was barking. Oddly enough, nobody else was having a problem controlling themselves. Sure, one or two kids smirked or let out a subdued and mature "ha." But I was experiencing a Vesuvius of shame-tinted laughter that was threatening to elicit sympathetic reactions throughout my body.
"Poopah? Poo-OO-pah? No. Wait. POOPAH. No, nowait."
My teacher was not amused with my semi-muffled wet gasping horsey snorts and circled back around the learning pods to stand behind me. I sank lower in my seat, trying to hide my spasmodic face behind our bulky and battered textbooks. Unfortunately, my hands were shaking so much that the book rattled on the desk, further drawing attention to my plight.
"Meagan," said my teacher. "Do you need to go sit out in the hall?"
Sitting out in the hall was pretty intense punishment in our grade. There was the isolation factor, as you were cut off from all the good stuff that was happening in class and with your friends, plus it was SO UNGODLY BORING THAT YOU WANTED TO DIE. Yours truly found herself in the hall regularly. Probably about twice a week. Sometimes less, sometimes more.
If you were still so bad that you required further chastisement after sitting out in the hall, you had to go down to the principal's office. Not much happened there- you sat in another chair in front of the secretary while you were waiting for the principal to come and talk to you. It was even more boring because there was very little to see or do in front of the secretary- when you were in the hall outside of your classroom you could look at posters, or stretch your legs, or whatever. Once I napped.
I had ended up in the principal's office before too- most recently because when I'd last been sent into the hall, I'd seen it coming and had the foresight to tuck a book under my shirt so I'd have something to do out there. I got so caught, and had to walk myself to the principal's office, and all she'd said was "What book was it?" and I said "Nancy Drew" and she said "WHICH ONE I LOVE NANCY DREW?!" and I said "The one where she lives with the Amish people! And Bess gets hit on the head! And there's a witch tree!" and we chatted for a bit longer then it was time to go home.
Anyway, I was no stranger to the hall. So when my teacher asked a question clearly designed to shame me in to behaving, I instead leaped at the opportunity to escape the situation.
"You know, I think I really do need to sit in the hall," I said, excusing myself.
"POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOpah," said Justin Jordan woefully, clearly upset that I was leaving. I snorted like an asthmatic water buffalo and lurched into the door, my swan song of incapacitating laughter finally, blessedly laid to rest.
I wandered out into the hall and sat on the ground. It was immediately boring. It was also hot hot hot, and since I was sitting all curled up pretzel-style, I got some awkward knee-pit sweats right away. The water fountain outside our classroom door was gross, inevitably warm and filmy with gum over the spout. Such is the way of things in grade school.
I knew there was another water fountain way way down the hall, and I debated with myself about whether or not I could run super fast to that fountain, slurp down some refreshing water, give my kneepits a dainty splash, and run back before my teacher came out to check on me. A clock would have been helpful here, but alas- details like time are only important to less adventurous girls.
I didn't really want to go to the principal's office again, since I'd been so recently, and I was sure the punishment was going to be far more severe this time. (First trip the principal's office = book club. Second trip = lose a finger. Or something. I was sure of it.) But the more I thought about that water, the more I realized that truly, the only thing I've ever wanted in the whole world was cool refreshing delicious life giving water and if I didn't get any right now, I would certainly die and OH MY GOD, THE THIRST! I AM PARCHED. NOBODY HAS EVER BEEN THIS THIRSTY EVERRRRRR FUCKITI'MGOING!
I took off, pumping my arms like only a little girl who faints after she runs the mile can.*
I reached the fountain, practically took a bath in it, and then ran back to my classroom to find everyone lined up outside, ready to head to art class. My body went on autopilot, because of the panic you see, and I didn't stop running, just ran to the end of the line and jumped into place, thinking that if I quieted my breathing and stood very still they'd think I had been there the whole time. Idiots.
Obviously, that didn't happen, and my peers turned around to stare at me- red-faced, panting, and soaked. My teacher walked to the end of the line, asked where I had been, and then told me to go walk myself to the principal's office for running around "playing" while I was supposed to be sitting in the hall. She didn't have time to do it herself. Everyone else needed to be at art class.
I turned to walk away, a little sad because I had to miss art class, and while I was by no means a child prodigy in the visual arts, I always had a good time making things that required a lot of explanation later. Just as I was about to round the corner away from my class, I heard my friend Justin Jordan cry out "Pooooooooooooooooppahhhhhhhh!" and broke out into giggles once again.
So worth it.
*I am not that delicate. It was just really, really hot where I grew up. And I consistently exercise poor judgment when it comes to competition and running in the heat. To this day, in fact!
Labels: childhood, help my brain is weird, memories |
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| 12 Comments: |
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Your Justin stories are excellent. I wish my 3rd grade friends had been cooler! :)
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Oh Meg, you were such a funny child, and so much more daring than I ever was. And holy shit, how do you remember all of these details? I am impressed. I remember very little about grade school except that I was voted Valentine's Queen in the fifth grade. If that wasn't an honor worth remembering, I don't know what is.
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Just this morning I thought, "I am going to IM Meg and tell her that she should blog again soon."
But, then I realized that would just lead to you insulting Canada and me telling you that you are a pain in the ass.
I'm glad that we could avoid that.
And that this post is FUNNY.
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Today I began to wonder where you'd run off to. And then POOF there you were...ready with this delightful romp for me to read.
I can't believe you were one of those kids that got in trouble. I NEVER did. I was lame.
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I am in TEARS at work from reading this.
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Fekkin' awesome. So glad you returned!
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You're seriously hilarious.
You should link me too!
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If you learn in pods, do you have a whale of a time?
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I love your stories, but not in a creepy way. Of course, whenever someone denies being creepy, that person is surely a creep.
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whenever i am blue,
i sit down and think of poo-
pa
seriously. your childhood friend has brought me hours of entertainment. HOURS.
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Gazelle- I bet you were that cool. I have been around some third graders recently. They're pretty hilarious.
Mindy- I am not at all surprised that you were the V Queen.
PdW- I'd never insult canada. it is lovely there. I'd insult you though- you and canada are not one and the same.
HS- Know what? I was bad to the bone (mostly not on purpose) until I switched schools at age 9. Then I was good as gold. Terrified.
Joy- Don't cry! Justin Jordan brings love into our lives, not tears.
JB- Thanks, doll.
Leeeees- Okay. I will.
Linus- School me.
JMH- then good lord, I'm the creepiest. Because I usually open with "I know this sounds creepy, but..."
Kelsi- Me too. What say we try to find him? He should have been our subletter!
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Don't think I have commented here before - just lurked, but I have to say I'm glad you're back, because you are def. one of my favorite writers. I end up snorting and snuffling in my cube. Thanks!
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Name: A Lover and a Fighter
Home: New York, NY
About Me: "It is a very sad thing that nowadays there is so little useless information."
-Oscar Wilde
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Your Justin stories are excellent. I wish my 3rd grade friends had been cooler! :)