I'm a bit late tonight, having attended the school board meeting where my boy recieved a nice framed certificate-of-recognition for his 1st Place ribbon in the local community college Science Fair. Oh, and his partner, too. The choir, band, and FCCLA students who won special awards were also recognized. It's that time of year. Things are winding down. There will be banquets, awards, rewards, dances, incentive trips, club trips, field day, etc. We play hard after working hard all year on the MAPs.
I'm not feeling longwinded tonight. Perhaps I have a fever. Anyhoo, I will leave you with a little lesson from Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.
HOW TO ASK FOR A BAND-AID
(or an adhesive bandage, if you believe in copyrights)
HOW TO ASK FOR A BAND-AID THE WRONG WAY
Students roam about the room before the tardy bell, playing grab-a$$ (a big shout-out to Mr. S for his favorite terminology, right up there with his second favorite, buttsy-wuttsy). When Mrs. Hillbilly Mom enters to begin class, the following conversation occurs.
Hey, do you have a Band-Aid?
I think so. Let me take roll.
I cut my finger.
Just a minute.
I'm dripping blood all over my book.
Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's class doesn't have books. She doesn't really give a fat rat's behind. She has seen no sudden trauma. No stabbing, no hand slammed in a door, no biting, no hitting with a hammer, no cheese-cutting, no papercutting. Nobody has asked for a Band-Aid during the 4-minute Grab-A$$ Festival.
I said 'in a minute'.
Well, it's dripping.
I SAID WAIT.
What's the matter with you? Alls I did was ask for a Band-Aid. I cut my finger.
And that's my fault how?
Well,you won't give me a Band-Aid. What are we supposed to do, bleed all over everything?
Look. I don't HAVE to give you anything.
What kind of attitude is that for a teacher?
The point is, I told you to wait. And you wouldn't let me take roll without interrupting. That is rude. All you had to do was wait 30 seconds. Now look how long this has taken.
Why do you always treat ME like this?
You are the one always interrupting. There. There's a Band-Aid.
Student rips it open and puts it on his finger. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has yet to see the river of blood he's been harping about.
This is a SpongeBob Band-Aid. Don't you have any plain ones?
I'm so sorry that my free Band-Aid doesn't meet your standards. Maybe next time, you should drive to Wal-Mart and buy your own Band-Aids to carry with you in case you cut your finger in Math class, what with all the sharp objects you're exposed to here.
Gosh, all I wanted was a Band-Aid. Why do you have to give me the lecture?
Did you ever see Fast Times At Ridgemont High?
No. What's that?
Never mind.
HOW TO ASK FOR A BAND-AID THE RIGHT WAY
(the next day, different student in same class)
Student reaches hand into jacket pocket.
Ow! I cut my finger on that broken CD case.
Student puts finger in mouth.
Let me see.
Student walks to desk, holds out finger with drop of blood oozing from bottom of fingernail.
Do you have a Band-Aid?
Yes, I do. Here's one.
COOL. SpongeBob. Thanks.
You're welcome.
Don't trifle with Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, people. She does not tolerate rude freeloaders very well.
5 comments:
I hide the SpongeBob bandaids here - they are MINE. The kids can have Pirates of the Caribbean and Strawberry Shortcake.
Chick,
If I'd actually SEEN any blood on the Band-Aid Freeloader, I would have tossed him some papertowels to clean it up. He carried on like he needed a tourniquet. But I never even saw ONE drop.
If the parents smacked the smart mouths shut, some blood might leak out, and then they would have to buy their own Band-Aids.
These are the same kids who use FIVE Kleenexes to blow their nose ONCE. Like they have such powerful snouts that they might blow a hole in just one Kleenex.
Mrs.,
I don't think I could do it. Oh, I could be a harda$$ with the freeloaders. But every now and then, some family who REALLY needs free cheese would come in, and I would feel a surge of sympathy that would make me HUMAN, and my circuit-board might short out.
Diva,
I only WISH I'd had a Strawberry Shortcake band-aid to give that kid! He would have shouted, "This is GAY!" and then I could have given him the 'tolerance' lecture as well.
They're bad, true... but at least they don't call you "dude" like those societal menaces / philosopher kings that Diva's raising.
(Word Verification: xoixtal - One of many internet shorthands used by the Aztecs)
Hey now....that little smartass I'm raising has only learned from the best... give me some credit.
word verification: ubaark Speaking of Scooby....
Diva,
Credit given. By cracky.
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