Memoirs

One of Those Embarrassing Moments

I was in the third grade quietly sitting at my desk doing whatever I was supposed to be doing. Behind me, a girl named Darlene Hutchins, a real chatterbox, sat at her desk. I was always sort of quiet, not making friends easily. I paid attention in class, never came unprepared, turned in homework on time, and always made mostly A's and B’s on my report card. None of these mattered in this instance or gave me any leeway for the consequences of my action this day.

Miss Baker, Oda Baker to be exact, was my third grade teacher, one of two old-maid sisters, classic looking for this description, bun and all. The other sister worked with my mother. I think I was probably pretty full of myself and thought I was a little smarter than everybody else. Only children are delusional this way sometimes with all the praise from relatives that tends to come their way. This particular day Miss Baker brought me down to a normal level, maybe even a little below.

There I was, sitting at my desk, reading an assignment, minding my own business, when I feel this tapping on my shoulder. I did what anyone else would do...I turned around. Darlene whispered something to me I didn’t understand and I whispered a few words back to her asking what she had said. She began to write something down on a piece of paper which kept my rapt attention. I was twisted all the way around in my chair by this time.

The next thing I knew Miss Oda Baker was standing beside me, her hand heavy on my shoulder, an unpleasant experience, believe me. Her face looked like a storm cloud had passed over it and soon I was to feel the thunder and lightning of it. I can’t remember her exact words because of the pounding in my ears, but she managed to make me feel like the smallest bug on the floor. And a verbal put down was not my only punishment. The dreaded wooden ruler cracked across my knuckles as she spun me around to the front of my seat. Miss Baker did not allow talking or disrespect in her classroom, her very words as the tears rolled down my burning red cheeks.

Darlene suffered no indignities at all. When Miss Baker's eyes had lighted on me, Darlene was quietly writing in her notebook, the picture of virtue.

Well, I got my come-uppance that day, and at the end of the marking period, there was an "X" beside "self-control" on my report card with a special parent note that said, “Connie does not always pay attention.” I thought it was grossly unfair at the time, and apparently I did not learn my lesson right away. In the next marking period I had a “D” in citizenship, not even sure of the definition of that one let alone what it was for.

But over the years my opinion has mellowed, and I even have a few fond memories of Miss Baker. Needless to mention, Darlene and I never became real friends although we were speaking friends, just not in the classroom. Harrington was a small elementary school and the same classmates continued through many years.