Rolling Heads and Falling Hosiery
The connection? Glad you asked:
Separate groups of gunmen entered two primary schools in Baghdad on Wednesday and beheaded two teachers in front of their students, the Ministry of State for National Security said.
My first reaction to reading this was, naturally, how horrible. And it is. Really. But then I began to think. When I was in primary school, were there any teachers whom I would have nominated for beheading? I mean, on the off chance that a terrorist group (undoubtedly Prots - maybe Calvinists) stormed St. Leo's Catholic School way back in 1742 when I was a student, who would I have chosen? Easy. Gary Mahn – my grade 8 teacher.
One dreary afternoon in midwinter (ahhhh, I remember it as if it were yesterday), our class stood to recite the Our Father. As I mumbled my prayer, I could feel my nylons (I believe the colour was "spice" – a not very natural hue for my pallid skintones) slipping down about my ankles. For those of you who have suffered the agony of improper-fitting hosiery, you are undoubtedly feeling my pain as you read this. Without drawing undo attention to myself, I tried to yank my nylons up but the blighters kept slipping. Yank yank yank, slip slip slip. Chances are, they were an ancient pair which had lost all of its elasticity months ago and were scarred with a hundred picks. My mother did not see the need for 13-year olds to wear nylons when we could wear leotards, or the need to replenish them regularly. Perhaps nylons were the domain – at least in her generation – of married women, like tampons and permanent waves. Anyway, prayers done, God placated, Mr. Mahn said to me (in a not very sotto voce), "It's okay Cat in Rabat, Jesus doesn't mind if you have wrinkly pantyhose."
Oh the shame! The humiliation! I wanted to die. But now I see that I had another option. I could have forwarded his name for decapitation. If only someone had told me – just knowing that there might be a terrorist group out there looking for primary school teachers to butcher would have made my adolescence tolerable. Instead, I developed an ever-growing fear and loathing of hosiery. A 13-year old's mortification is long-lived cross to bear. The bastard.
A ministry official said he believed the attacks were aimed at: "intimidating pupils and disrupting learning."
Separate groups of gunmen entered two primary schools in Baghdad on Wednesday and beheaded two teachers in front of their students, the Ministry of State for National Security said.
My first reaction to reading this was, naturally, how horrible. And it is. Really. But then I began to think. When I was in primary school, were there any teachers whom I would have nominated for beheading? I mean, on the off chance that a terrorist group (undoubtedly Prots - maybe Calvinists) stormed St. Leo's Catholic School way back in 1742 when I was a student, who would I have chosen? Easy. Gary Mahn – my grade 8 teacher.
One dreary afternoon in midwinter (ahhhh, I remember it as if it were yesterday), our class stood to recite the Our Father. As I mumbled my prayer, I could feel my nylons (I believe the colour was "spice" – a not very natural hue for my pallid skintones) slipping down about my ankles. For those of you who have suffered the agony of improper-fitting hosiery, you are undoubtedly feeling my pain as you read this. Without drawing undo attention to myself, I tried to yank my nylons up but the blighters kept slipping. Yank yank yank, slip slip slip. Chances are, they were an ancient pair which had lost all of its elasticity months ago and were scarred with a hundred picks. My mother did not see the need for 13-year olds to wear nylons when we could wear leotards, or the need to replenish them regularly. Perhaps nylons were the domain – at least in her generation – of married women, like tampons and permanent waves. Anyway, prayers done, God placated, Mr. Mahn said to me (in a not very sotto voce), "It's okay Cat in Rabat, Jesus doesn't mind if you have wrinkly pantyhose."
Oh the shame! The humiliation! I wanted to die. But now I see that I had another option. I could have forwarded his name for decapitation. If only someone had told me – just knowing that there might be a terrorist group out there looking for primary school teachers to butcher would have made my adolescence tolerable. Instead, I developed an ever-growing fear and loathing of hosiery. A 13-year old's mortification is long-lived cross to bear. The bastard.
A ministry official said he believed the attacks were aimed at: "intimidating pupils and disrupting learning."
Ya think?? Only, truth be told, if I had seen Mr. Mahn's head rolling down the hallway towards the boys' bathroom, I would have felt vindicated. Hurray! And I bet we would have gotten the rest of the week off too! In a perfect world, it would have happened on a Monday.
***
9 Comments:
not "Gus" "Bod" Bodner?
Oh Gus was fine - and he was a priest. I think they're prohibited from looking at teenaged girl's legs - at leastr in theory.
true, but your post reminded me of him...
I believe that Father Gus has passed on ...
I am morose, much like the camel referred to in an earlier post, and much like Danny. We are all morose over the passing of Father Gus. Did he die of aids (I now duck to avoid the inevitable lightening strike).
Gus is dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.
But I fear Mr. Mahn is still out there, after mortifiying two generations of unsuspecting teenage girls.
On the bright side, he had a dick and a pulse, so he spent most of his career as a principal.
Ahhhh, a principal. What a cruel world this is that I should see my tormenter honoured!
.... by the way Cath, you're not suggesting that male teachers are routinely given principalships (?) over their female counterparts, are you?
I was teacher in Turkey when I heard the news ... there was a gunman loose in the school ... 'Now go to your classes and don't scare the children!'
(As in act normal.)
Dammit ... it's not easy being 'the teacher' however I have repented of my ways and now loll about in the no-man's land of 'the immigrant'. It's simpler ... I merely contend with Europe's far right ... I'd best stop here.
"now loll about in the no-man's land of 'the immigrant' .... that's hilarious!"
Post a Comment
<< Home