Every year in school in my elementary years, my teachers would learn to expect the worse from me: lack of cooperation, minimal homework, disrespect, and a smart mouth. It was ironic to them that their last memory of me that year was very positive.
At the first of the year, each teacher would emphasize how important it was to keep covers on your books to prevent wear and tear, not mark in your books, and (at one time my favorite) draw horns on the pictures of people the books used for illustrations. The always said, “If your book is in bad shape, you WILL have to pay for it. That last day, the teachers would call us to their desks, on at a time, typically in alphabetical order, and have us turn in our text book. We would hear her say things like, “That’s acceptable.” “Good job, Lisa. As good as new.” “That will not do for another year, John. You will need to pay for this book before you get your report card.” Since I was a “W”, I was always close to last. The teacher would call my name, glare at me with heavy eyebrows, and prepare to give me the horrible news that I would be working this summer to pay for a book I ruined. She would inspect the book with raised eyebrows, not believing her eyes. She would flip through the book twice quickly, and usually a third time very slowly. Finally, she would lay the book on her desk, grit her teeth and almost spit, “Good job, Tim.” Not once did any of them ever think to say, “It’s like this book was never opened.”
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AuthorTim White splashes wit with wisdom gained from too many mistakes. You are welcomed to enjoy his current blog or view blogs from earlier. Archives
February 2019
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