Gather round my little Sparkle- Glutei-Maximi. It’s time for another one of my awesome possum elementary school experiences. Many of you commended my superior skills of revenge in my last post about wrecking art(which was a long time ago..). The question is: will you applaud absolute insanity? There’s only one way to find out:
‘Twas a bright and ornery day of 3rd grade. Not a bladder stirred as the teacher read out our spelling list slowly. Scratch that—not slowly, but so slow that even my grandma’s grandma would’ve been impatient. If she was alive and randomly sitting in my 3rd grade class that Friday, she would’ve yelled some OldPersonThing like: “Persnickety dangburned snickerdoodle frump! GET ON WITH THE PROGRAM!” Needless to say, my super-keener mindset had been honed and at the young age of 8 years old, I had memorized our word list when I’d practiced my spelling words on Monday. I wrote those words down lickety-split and sat there listening to the teacher yell slowly: “COS-T-UUUUU-ME. I wore a COS-T-UUUUU-ME to the party.” It’s true when they say idle hands are easy for the devil. I didn’t need the help of a devil, I could formulate my own grandmasterhelluvaplan. I raised my hand and started doing the pee dance. For those of you that are not aware of the pee dance, it’s when you start pretending to be a snake that can’t keep still and is wriggling on a chair. Combine that the butt-jumping powers of Tigger and Kanga and Roo, and you’ve got the pee dance. Christopher Robin would be proud, I’m sure.... BUT I digress.
Pee dance: commenced. Attention of teacher: gained. EyebrowLiftingActionThatMeansIReallyGottaGo: check. PermissionToRelieveMyself: granted with a small nod from a confident teacher who knows I’ve gotten a 100% on my spelling test—again. My elementary school had the bathrooms for us youngsters stupidly positioned on the first floor of the building while we had to suffer on the 2nd floor. By the time people got their hall pass and reached the last stair, they’d peed in their danged pants! However, being a diabolical mastermind, I’d calculated the time it took to reach the washroom and the maximum pain I could handle while avoiding to go to the washroom before peeing in my pants. Of course, it took a few test runs in my kindergarten year but I mastered it by the time I was in 3rd grade.
ANYWAY, there I was: a smart student who’d finished her spelling test early and gone down to the washroom to “relieve herself”. Little did the teacher know that I, THE GRAND AWESOME PLAN FORMULATOR, was actually measuring distances from the little bathroom stools to the washroom window and if I could swing my leg in a proper arc that could leave my size 2 shoes planted on the windowsill. This was all part of my grandmasterhelluvaplan. Please with my calculations, I washed my hands and made sure they were sopping wet when I entered the classroom so the teacher wouldn’t suspect anything. It was all a matter of time. The bell rang for recess and I was the first crazed monster to launch herself out of the classroom. It was time to execute the plan. But first, like all diabolical masterminds, I would need a snack. I grabbed my Dunkaroos from my lunch bag and gobbled them up faster than you can say “turkey” and was down in the bathroom in a matter of seconds. Recess time was a perfect time to master my plan.
The hierarchy of the school stated that all 6th graders would enter the washroom 2 minutes before the end of recess, the 5th graders would come in pairs and the 4th graders would come in clumps sometime in the middle of recess. Us third graders were lone wolves, which is why what I did next gave me the beautiful title of “That Third Grader Who Did the Unthinkable.” Barbies and Kens, what I did next was AWESOME. I lifted myself up to the windowsill, opened that 2 foot tall window and stood at the sill wobbling for a few seconds. That millisecond between balance and flight is something I still remember and with a disregard to the screams of the 2nd and 1st graders, I launched myself out of that window which was probably only 4 feet off the ground outside.
The 6th graders stood in awe as I flew down into their circle of frenemy-ship from above. And they all stood slackjawed for a second. Would my plan work? I nodded at them cheerfully and walked away nonchalantly to see if my plan had succeeded. I parted a path in the ranks of those adolescents like a sickle cutting wheat. Ever since I was young, I’d hated the hierarchy of schools and I wanted to throw the system upside down. Obviously, I succeeded when people started launching themselves out of the bathroom window and I smiled with glee as the teachers ran to the back of the school to see why a crowd had formed outside the girls’ bathroom window. Of course, the boys had to go and try to jump out of the non-existent window in their bathroom. Not to be outdone by the girls, a guy had drawn a window with a permanent marker on the wall of the boys’ bathroom and by the end of recess; the whole male portion of the school population had swollen heads like the ones Wile E. Coyote got.
I shrugged my shoulders at a teacher who asked me if I knew who’d started it. “I just got here Miss,” I said as I beamed my supermegaawesomehypnoticgazeofinnocence at her. Needless to say, the 6th graders all got detention and had to spend an hour writing lines. I stood with my teacher shaking my head in disapproval as she complained to me that she wished all students took me as an example. Bookweirm out.
The Girl Who Started It All.
I am a mere storyteller relaying my memories in a pleasant fashion. Do you approve? Should I be seeking approval or can I die happy know that I am a trend setter?