July 14, 2005

The Substitute

In our sophomore year in high school we were immersed in the realities of chemistry as taught by the emminent, Mr. Wh*******. It happened to occur, one fine day, that Mr. Wh******* was not available for class and we were treated to a substitute teacher.

To our horror, we learned, as we walked through the class door that fateful day, that the substitute was none other than the much feared, Mr. Bu***. Mr. Bu*** was a screamer, you see, you erase a mark on your paper too vigorously, he screamed, you dropped a pencil by accident, he screamed. And by scream, i mean rafter shaking, roof raising screams. By and large the class was loathe to ever get Mr. Bu*** for any teaching as it was always a matter of time before the roars echoed through the room.

We settled pensively into our desks. I was situated in the middle/back of the fourth row, with a good view of the clock, door, the front of the classroom, and a good many classmates seated before and beside me. I settled into staring at the clock, willing the damnably slow minute-hand to leap forward and save us from this Hell on earth, but time took no pity on us. Mr. Bu*** began a rote reading of the chapter from the textbook, refusing to leave his chair or even look up from the book. This is something to which I particularly hated, being read to, especially something I had already read in preparation of class. My mind entered a catatonic state.

I heard whispers to my left, I glance over, apprehensive that the teaching terror to the front heard it also. I see Tina, one of my oldest friends from childhood, leaning forward and speaking quickly with Beth in front of her, a huge grin splaying across her face. Mr. Bu*** looks up and asks if "Do you girls have a problem?"

I had to shudder, because I knew this was a volcanic eruption waiting to happen. Normally when you are picked out of the class you try to stay quiet and unassuming, like it was the teacher's error in thinking anything happened... a mirage to which they are surely mistaken. Apparantly Tina wasn't subscribing to this rule today. I still do not know if she was touched by the gods of mischief or just feeling particularly anarchic this day, but she looks directly at Mr. Bu*** and announces that INDEED she does have a problem, that she WILL be going to the restroom immediately. Her tone brooked no disagreement, and she wasn't asking permission. *boggle* She stands and walks to the front, not bothering to wait for his answer. Mr. Bu*** starts to tell her to wait, but she ignores him, walking out the classroom and turning the corner into the girl's restroom.

It is important at this juncture of the story to delve into the blueprint of the inside of the highschool in this general area. Now, the way the classroom is situated, it is EXACTLY next to the girl's restroom, on the same wall, with only a water fountain betwixt the two doors. This means that you can hear virtually EVERYTHING that occurs in the girl's restroom through the wall of the front of the classroom, from the squeeking of the front door, the slam of stall doors, to the flush of the commodes. It also means, that from my perch in the fourth row, I can see out into the hall, can see whoever is using the water fountain, and can even see the girl's bathroom door when it is swung open to its widest.

The bathroom door squeeks open, the bathroom door squeeks shut. A bathroom stall slams shut. Mr. Bu*** continues to drone on, I feel like falling asleep. Bathroom stall slams shut again, bathroom door squeeks open, bathroom door squeeks shut. Tina comes around the corner and into the classroom doorway. Looking directly at Beth she announces over the lecturing substitute "I need a dime". Everyone's attention shifts to Tina, Beth snickers in her seat. Mr. Bu*** loudly asks, "What's the problem here, you don't need a dime, take your seat!"

Tina peers over at the front desk and states, "Hey, I'm on the rag, I need a dime for the machine!" Mr. Bu*** coughs and tells her to be quick about it, and returns to his reading. En masse, the class' eyes become saucers and their mouths drop open. She then perfunctorily marches over to Beth (who was digging through her purse loudly) and obtains said currency, pivots on her heel and marches back out of the room and into the bathroom. You can hear her banging on the machine through the wall. Some of our classmates begin to snicker, Mr. Bu*** looks up and roars "QUIET!" returning to his reading.

Meer moments pass and I hear the squeek of the bathroom door. I see Tina leaning over the water fountain, but her face is nowhere near the water. She peers through the class door to see what Mr. Bu*** is doing and makes eye contact with Beth, grinning maliciously. As she is looking about her hand is sweeping back and forth under the water.

She composes herself and strolls into the room without saying a word. Quickly taking her seat. Mr. Bu*** continues reading from the textbook, the monotony just dripping from the walls. I lose track of a minute or two, until I see a movement to the side. Glancing over I see Tina's hand twirling a white object by a string, then she launches it. You barely have time to see the trajectory of the missile before there is an audible *THUMP* and everyone turns to look. Naturally Tina's focus is back in her textbook, awaiting the requisite number of seconds before glancing up and joining the confused masses in trying to locate the source of the sound. Meanwhile, my eyes, as well as those of Beth and Mr. Bu***'s are glued to the tampon which has suddenly sprouted from the ceiling, a white string dangling down... looking all the world like some escaped lab mouse making a run for freedom along the rafters.

Beth naturally points out the "object" to the rest of the class and anarchy ensues. You couldn't help but laugh, it really did look like a mouse. Mr. Bu*** flies into a rage, demanding to know the culprit (duh, I still can't figure out how he didn't connect the incident, perhaps he thought it was a spitwad) He screams himself hoarse and excuses himself to the office. Tina professes innocence and continues reading her book.

The next day, Mr. Wh******* returns to class and things are seemingly normal. We tensely sit in our seats as he completes the whole day's lesson and nearly get a breath of relief out as the time approaches for the change class bell, when he broaches the subject. "I seem to notice the inclusion of a new object to our classroom", he indicates, pointing up at the unoffending mouselike tampon now dried to the ceiling. "Anyone care to relate to me how that got up there?"

Tina pipes up quickly, "I have no idea how that got up there, or what it even is, but I can get it down." She walks to the front and gets the yardstick from the corner, Mr. Wh*******'s face growing a smirk as she walks back to her desk. She stands on her desk and *WHACKS* the hygiene product from its perch, sending it flying RIGHT to the front of the class and into the chair of the teacher. Again the class falls into hysterics. Mr. Wh******* can only put his hand over his eyes and shake his head in disbelief.

Posted by Ravennacht at 12:48 PM