It’s funny how parents start to tell more accurate stories about themselves when you’re an adult. Today my mom told me about a time when her and a group of friends were crossing the street on a crosswalk, when she decided to fake dropping a contact lense. She bent down and started looking all over the road, her friends helping too. People literally got out of their cars at the stoplight to help in the search, all wandering around as the light changed from red to green, and green to red again. My mom’s best friend turned to her, “you don’t even wear contacts”. “I know,” my mom said. Eventually she thanked everyone for helping her look, but she sees that there’s no hope of finding the lense, and that everyone should just be on their way. And so the helpful strangers got back into their cars, waiting out yet another red light. What a little asshole my mother was.
This got me thinking…what have I done in the past that would make me a little asshole? I think I’m more friendly and funny rather than an asshole, but some may not agree. Like my high school history teacher for example.
When I was in high school, I was a great student, one of the best. But that also meant that I had more time on my hands to mouth off to teachers. One day I was being more snarky than usual, and when the teacher would ask me questions in class, questions that I definitely knew the answers to, I would reply with the most ridiculous responses. “What is the capital of Canada?” “Moose jaw”. “What is our national animal?” “The yellow-bellied warbler”. You get the idea. After a bit of back and forth, my teacher had had enough. He dragged my desk, with me in it I might add, from its place at the front of the class, out of the door and into the hallway. He then closed the classroom door. My peers bursting out in endless laughter. Well this would certainly not be the end of it. Not even ten minutes later my teacher emerged out of the classroom, he had to go make photocopies in the office. Perfect…
When he returned from the office there was not one person, not one desk, to be found in the classroom. I had convinced my entire class to pick up their desks and carry them out of the classroom, down the hall, and out the door to the courtyard. We were all lined up under the classroom windows, so even if he looked out, he wouldn’t be able to see us. Eventually he came outside, with a displeased look on his face. However, it was quickly turned up in a smirk of sorts. Even though we pester him, and I wasted basically a whole class period, he loves us. I’m sure of it. I always got 100% in that class afterall.
Just A Small Town Girl 