I will never ever forget being in Mr. Smith's 5th grade class. I can still picture it, all of it, with the neatly stacked chairs, his tacky brown fake-wood desk. Mr. Smith was an all right teacher. I actually kind of really liked him as teachers go. He knew how to motivate kids, keep them interested in learning. His system included giving you a star sticker for good behavior or grade scoring. When you got so many stars you got cinnamon bears, my all time favorite. Poor Mr. Smith, on one unfortunate sunny afternoon, he had the unfortunate luck of meeting my one and only mother, momma Nancy. This encounter would forever change his outlook on cinnamon bears I truly believe.
As precocious as I was, Mr. Smith's system of reward was not keeping up with my audacious appetite for recognition or cinnamon bears. So much to Mr. Smith's chagrin I took matters into my own hands. While my fellow students were out on the playground, I took a box of stars, licked each and every one of them and commenced to placing each on my face; red, silver, blue, gold. I even l closed my lids and put one on each for full affect. Then I went over to Mr. Smith's tacky fake-wood desk, opened the top drawer and snuck a handful of cinnamon bears. Yes I did!
Next thing I know, someone had called my momma up to that school, and one thing everybody knew is you don't wake up momma during the day (she worked night shift) for any reason other than a death in the family. Momma Nancy came up to that school with a belt. I stood there staring at Mr. Smith, who looked like he wanted to cry with me and for me. My mother says, "You got me up here, now I will take if from here!" Her oldest daughter standing there looking like a lit up ornament with stars all over her face. She grabbed me by the arm as we listened to Mr. Smith say, "Mrs. Mc Gaha it's okay, really." She turned on her heels and asked one more thing. "Mr. Smith, do you still have those cinnamon bears?" He reached in his drawer and handed them to her. She looked at me and said here, eat one. I did. Eat two, a little startled, I did. Then she made me eat the entire bag in front of Mr. Smith until I wanted to puke all over Mr. Smith and his ugly desk.
My stars started peeling and falling from the perspiration on my face. I was done! I would have rather been beat with that belt in front of Mr. Smith than feel those cinnamon bears fighting it out in my tummy.
I learned a great lesson that day. Be happy with what you have. Recognition will come when you earn it. Be still. Be humble. Oh and don't ever wake up momma when she has to work that night shift!
As precocious as I was, Mr. Smith's system of reward was not keeping up with my audacious appetite for recognition or cinnamon bears. So much to Mr. Smith's chagrin I took matters into my own hands. While my fellow students were out on the playground, I took a box of stars, licked each and every one of them and commenced to placing each on my face; red, silver, blue, gold. I even l closed my lids and put one on each for full affect. Then I went over to Mr. Smith's tacky fake-wood desk, opened the top drawer and snuck a handful of cinnamon bears. Yes I did!
Next thing I know, someone had called my momma up to that school, and one thing everybody knew is you don't wake up momma during the day (she worked night shift) for any reason other than a death in the family. Momma Nancy came up to that school with a belt. I stood there staring at Mr. Smith, who looked like he wanted to cry with me and for me. My mother says, "You got me up here, now I will take if from here!" Her oldest daughter standing there looking like a lit up ornament with stars all over her face. She grabbed me by the arm as we listened to Mr. Smith say, "Mrs. Mc Gaha it's okay, really." She turned on her heels and asked one more thing. "Mr. Smith, do you still have those cinnamon bears?" He reached in his drawer and handed them to her. She looked at me and said here, eat one. I did. Eat two, a little startled, I did. Then she made me eat the entire bag in front of Mr. Smith until I wanted to puke all over Mr. Smith and his ugly desk.
My stars started peeling and falling from the perspiration on my face. I was done! I would have rather been beat with that belt in front of Mr. Smith than feel those cinnamon bears fighting it out in my tummy.
I learned a great lesson that day. Be happy with what you have. Recognition will come when you earn it. Be still. Be humble. Oh and don't ever wake up momma when she has to work that night shift!
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