Friday, March 13, 2015

Mrs. Jones

          Fourth grade was far less eventful than third grade. My teacher was Mrs. Jones, an older woman who had taught for many years. She seemed old to me then – I guess it was her gray hair with soft short curls that made her appear matronly. I can’t really figure now how  old Mrs. Jones was when I had her.
          Diane, my best friend, was in my class again, and that fell right into a nice pattern. We decided that the teachers and maybe the principal was in on this - we were together every other year. We were in kindergarten and second grade together – and then fourth grade too. If we didn’t talk too much to each other in class that year, maybe we’d be together again in sixth grade!
         In Mrs. Jones' class, our desks were eventually moved away from each other for over-chatting – but really, we were good kids.
          One time when we were lined up in the hall to go somewhere, Mrs. Jones was talking to another teacher and they were walking slowly beside our line. There was a lull in their conversation when they were passing by me, and Mrs. Jones noticed me and stopped and said to the other teacher, “Look at Denise’s dress, here. Her mother sews the loveliest clothes.” The other teacher agreed with her and they moved on. I couldn’t tell at the time if Mrs. Jones was being flattering or sincere – but after all these years, that’s one big thing I remember about her!
          The other big fourth grade memory is not so happy. Funny yes, happy no. 
          One day we were all sitting in class – the kids at their desks and Mrs. Jones up front at her desk. She was talking. And talking and talking. I was in the row of desks over by the wall next to the hallway. I realized that I was going to be sick to my stomach, and I needed to leave the room. The lavatory was just a little bit down the hall.
           I couldn’t just get up and walk out though, I needed to ask for permission. Actually, we were only supposed to use the bathroom at scheduled times unless it was an emergency. Even though I had never asked for special permission to leave the room before, I thought this was enough of an emergency to raise my hand and ask to leave.
          Mrs. Jones saw my hand waving in the air and asked that no one raise  hands while she was giving instructions for the stuff she was talking about!
         I put my hand down and felt my face blush – why did she do that to me?
         Soon I realized that I really really needed to leave the room and I stuck my hand back in the air again.
          She looked right at me and did not ask me what I wanted! Mrs. Jones kept right on talking! I kept my hand waving in the air and a voice inside of me said I should just walk out of the room without permission. But I was scared – if I left the room, Mrs. Jones would run after me, and if I got to the bathroom and didn’t throw-up, boy would I be in a lot of trouble!
          So I put my hand down and got out of my chair. I walked to the door, thought about making a grand escape, but then instead walked over to Mrs. Jones’ desk.
          She wouldn’t look at me but kept on talking to the class. Why wouldn’t she ask me what was the matter? I wasn’t going to disturb her instructions! I just wanted to go to the bathroom!!!
          Mrs. Jones sat at her desk and looked across the room at the kids. She kept talking. My face turned from red to green.
          And then I upchucked all over her desk.
         Mrs. Jones took notice of me then!
         I puked on the class book that had attendance and grades marked down!
          What a horrible and yet heroic experience!
          Days later when I returned to school, I heard Mrs. Jones remark to someone that she learned a valuable lesson that afternoon!
          In all this time since then I thought that there was something about me that made Mrs. Jones think that I deserved to be treated that way. Now that I write it all down, though, I realize the episode was just plain mean!
          I can picture the desperate little girl waving her hand in the air for help and not getting it and not understanding why – and I can picture the little girl puking on the teacher’s oh-so-important desk and papers.
           And the bitterness passes, or will someday.  

72 20150313 Mrs. Jones

No comments:

Post a Comment