| Between Classes |
| Parents & Halter Tops ... |
| by Randy Wm. Clark |
| Heavy, Bevy, Mom goes above and beyond! ... |
The phys ed teacher was out today so I spent 45 minutes lumbering up and down the gymnasium floor, while playing floor hockey. The intended puck shot to my crotch created laughter for half the class period. I had to picture hostess twinkies at each end of the gym just to make it. I guess it got me through it. The pit stains under may arms reached my belt and must have smelled yummy. As if all of this weren’t enough tonight is “Open House”. Students bring their parents to school between the hours of 4 pm and 8 pm to meet their most hated teachers.
So, I didn’t get a chance to run home, shower, powder and make myself somewhat presentable. It’s always the parents you see and talk to daily who visit anyway. Never the ones you really need to see. We’re not suppose to talk about grades so what’s left to discuss? The greenhouse effect? The illegal trade of blood parrot fish in the aquarium business? How about the fact that mini pin / mini Doberman pinchers have such little bladders and are so tough to house break?
Desi’s mother was in promptly at 4pm. I knew she would be. It had been exactly 8 hours since she chewed my ear off in the school’s parking lot about the fact that fat girls really should be given a chance to cheer too. When I suggested they not be the top of pyramids nor tossed into the air she didn’t crack a smile. Maybe it’s time to remove that broomstick? Today’s sermon during Open House was in reference to the bathroom doors in the ladies room needing to be readjusted for privacy. I wrote down all of her concerns thinking I couldn’t wait to forget them all. She signed up for a door prize and I quickly removed her ticket and name from the coffee can. She didn’t need a free season’s pass to all sporting events and we weren’t drawing off any prizes in reference to getting a life.
Five or six additional parents came in and chewed the fat, checked out the bulletin boards and even talked curriculum. At about 7pm there was a lull and I figured Open House / 2006 was history. It was then that I heard Timmy’s voice in the hallway. If I could fit under my desk I surely would have. The last time I tried that it was with Lolita the janitor lady and the outcome wasn’t great, nor sanitary. Instead, I bolted for the door to lock it and turn off the lights. It was too late. Tim and Mommie Dearest filled my doorway. And we were off ...
It’s not every parent who can pull off wearing a halter top to Open House. The tattoo of a cherry on her left Ta-Ta looked homemade but appropriate. Her fat rolls below the halter reminded me of two ships passing in the night. You had to give her credit. She was a lady very comfortable in expressing herself. The next hour and a half consisted of entertaining her and listening to her verbiage.
Oh, you may be saying...Open House was suppose to get over at 8pm. Clark’s made a typo. Wrong again! Everyone else had left the building. Tim’s mom , now perched up on my desk, kept telling me about her employment as a bouncer in a local tavern, and had seemed to forget the fact I had a life. I tried yawning, moving closer to the door, ending conversation. I tried it all.
Towards the end she had me pinned up against the wall telling me how much I reminded her of Donny Osmund. Great... a big toothed has been that nobody except she remembers. I guess I could have done worse. Last year she told me I looked like John Candy. I asked her if that remembrance of him in reference to being fat or dead? She told me neither, hottt! Great again. Yes, I still had her phone number, cell phone, pager, e-mail address, and physical address. She made sure writing them again on the palms of my hands. Allowing her to continue writing anywhere else was denied. Any attempt to tell her Tim was the spawn of Satan resulted in the reminder that all he needed was a good man in his life who also happens to be hottt. I considered mentioning the pit stains but figured she’d find them hottt too. If I could have just reached the fire alarm to pull. The fine would have been worth it.
Damn! I never knew being a wanted, sex symbol would be so tough.
Randy Wm. Clark is an educator in Maine. |
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