The Shot Heard 'Round The World.

Some days are memorable in that they are just the epitome of foolish. There are a myriad of perplexing events that just boggle the mind in their utter senselessness. Some are created by your own absent-mindedness, others just happen and you have the misfortune to be present. Either way, you can't help but end the day shaking your head and wondering if there is a deeper meaning in it all or if you are just the subject of some cosmic reality show.

I awoke this morning feeling a bit better, but still sneezing and snuffling with the Squirrel Pox symptoms. Any hopes of a second snow day were dashed early on and I resigned myself to a full day back at the educational salt mines. My foggy state did not exactly make the morning preparations easier and I really didn't give myself enough time to get the truck cleaned off and prepared to navigate the still icy roads. I discovered that the lower half my windshield had been coated with enough snow that it resisted the sleet that ended our little weather event yesterday. The upper half was encrusted with ice that was utterly impervious to my ice scraper. I lowered the seat as far as possible and headed out, hoping that my half-view of the world would be enough until the defrosters did their job.

I then stopped off for gas. For some reason, though, my debit card was not being accepted at the pumps. I made several attempts, but my PIN number was rejected each time. Finally, the helpful display screen suggested that I go in and deal directly with the cashier. It was then that I realized I was using the wrong credit card. I was denied all further attempts at credit card purchases. I fled the pumps in shame, leaving my gas cap off and dangling in the breezes. I discovered this later at the gas station on the highway where I was more than willing to pay ten cents more per gallon for the privilege of being anonymous. I also used that time to finish clearing the windshield. I figured, I was already late at this point, so I might as well arrive at school alive.

Once at school, things failed to improve. The day off yesterday did little to boost anyone's morale and between the hours of eight and noon, I was informed every hour on the hour that another one of my students was in the office for one misbehavior or another. I went down and rescued the first one. I was still feeling somewhat pleasant at that point. The rest were on their own.

It all came to a head just before lunch. This was when my day just went south for good. There was no coming back from it.

I was working with one of my students in his regular classroom (he tends to do rather badly when I am not there to glare at him) and it was apparent that he has the same cold that has been plaguing me these days. I offered to get him some tissues from my classroom as they are the nice, soft kind that will not scratch his tender little nose. He gratefully accepted. I set him up with his assignment and promised to return quickly. I was a mere five feet from the door when I heard it. This sound. It had the "blatting" quality of a klaxon and could, perhaps have been a chair roughly scraped across the floor at a bad angle. I had but a moment to think, "gosh, I hope no one thinks that came from me" before the students in the class began groaning and crying out the name of the classroom teacher in accusatory tones. It was the sounding of the Southern Horn, A Gastric Greeting, A Fruit Toot...

The teacher had farted.

Now, I don't mean to dwell on unpleasantries here and hate that I might offend my loyal readers. I also don't want to come across all judgemental. I mean, who among us has not played a solo on the tushy trumpet at an unfortunate moment? But, gosh 'n fishes, no human being should ever make a noise like that and still be alive when its last note has finished reverberating! This was unlike anything I have ever heard. It fairly cried out for the intervention of a specialist of some sort. This was just not normal!!!!! The only other possible explanation is that the poor teacher, trapped by yesterday's blizzard, was forced to cobble together meals with only the broccoli, burritos and popcorn that was on hand.

I left the teacher to pick up what shreds of dignity remained to be gathered and deal with the class as best as was possible under the circumstances while I went about my tissue errand. I then stood in my own classroom for several minutes wondering if it would be wrong to just never go back and leave the poor student with the drippy nose to fend for himself. To face the teacher who had just shared such a personal gastric moment with so many seemed uncomfortable, to say the least. I'm ashamed to admit that it was a near thing. But, in the end, I did go back. The poor, intestinally challenged educator had managed to regain control of the class and I simply avoided all eye contact for the remainder of the day.

The situation was revisited after recess when one of my fifth graders returned to class to report that he had gotten further information on "all that teacher farting." It seems that it has been an issue all week in that classroom. I guess I was just lucky to have been in the right place at the right time today...

On the positive side, it seems that it was one of those magical farts that you sometimes hear about. My cold symptoms have steadily improved throughout the day and it is looking like I will be able to catch a few hours at SPA Knit And Spin on Saturday! It was looking doubtful for a while there, but I'm really feeling much better tonight so I'm calling it a "go." If you happen to catch sight of me, please do say, "hi." I'll be fairly easy to spot. Just look for the lady who is clearly at her first ever fiber event and overwhelmed by the joy of it all.

And it is entirely possible that I will be telling fart jokes.

SA