Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Miss Chick

My seventh grade English teacher was Miss Chick. That’s her name, she was not a "chick."

It’s already been established that I didn’t like school. Actually, school itself was okay, but they expected you to learn stuff there.

Miss Chick believed in assigned seating. I, of course was assigned to the first row, center desk.  I’d like to think it was due to my rapier like wit, my intelligent participation in classroom discussions, or because all the girls talking to me distracted the class. But no, she wanted me right in front of her desk at all times, because I was on a very short leash.

One day, we were given a reading assignment in class. Miss Chick, her cat woman eye glasses, and her eight inch bun, were all busy grading papers at her desk. The only sounds in the classroom were the turning of pages and the squirming of students in their seats.

At least those were the only sounds until Miss Chick let go with a monstrous flutter-blast.

Thirty heads snapped up so fast, you could hear vertebrae popping.

I was sitting directly in front of her and I knew it was her who farted. I looked at her and then at everybody behind me. All eyes were wide open, with eyebrows raised in disbelief. There was giggling and some outright belly laughs.

When I turned back around, Miss Chick stood up, looked directly at me, and said “Patrick! That was disgusting! Go to the office immediately!”  A short argument ensued, she told me that what I did was bad enough, to then deny it, was worse.

By the time I got to the principal’s office, Miss Chick had already called him. The cranky old bastard didn’t even want to hear my side of the story. The nerve!

I had been sent to the office for far greater offenses than farting, but he acted like it was a capital offense and said he was going to call my mother. I wished him luck on that one. If he could in fact reach my mom, she would be happy to know I hadn’t broken anything, or hurt anyone. Then she’d probably go off on him for wasting her time.  He made me sit outside his office for the rest of the school day.

The event spread all over school. I was a hero for something I hadn't even done.  When I reported to Miss Chick’s class the next day, she wouldn't even look at me. But when report cards came out about a month later, she gave me a much higher grade than I deserved.  Payment for services rendered.  I guess she thought I earned it for jumping on her stinky grenade. Actually, she pushed me on it...

For the record, had I been able to conjure up that beauty myself, in class, I would have been more than willing to lay claim to it, on the spot.


  1. That is a very good story! Sounds like Miss Chick was a hoot!

  2. Thanks!
    I forgot something! Part of her "oddness" (and our amusement as students) was that she taught english with a thick german accent.

  3. I love this! Thanks for sharing it. I love that you were considered a hero:)

  4. Thanks Lisa
    I'm sure my family would say that I'm trying to regain that same hero status, even today...

    You have to get some credit here. If not for your great post about the "whistle" at the BB game, I would have never remembered to dig my story out of an old notebook. Thanks for that!

  5. Very humorous, until she blamed you. That's just horrible on her part, but I'm glad it brought you glory. Plus you got out of the smelly classroom.

  6. thanks for reading and commenting.

    I can see it now. A couple of people have just caught up with each other after 30 years. "Do you remember that guy in 7th grade who got kicked out of class for farting?"
    thanks again...

  7. That's a hilarious and odd story to be sure.

  8. thanks TS. My life is an "odd" story...

  9. My kids will love this story - they are at that age where every other word is "poot", "pee", "fart", and many others. Just the mere thought is cause for breaking into uncontrollable laughter with us three! Yes - occasionally I fall out with them. Some of those instances are halarious as long as the odors are not a problem! Yuck!

  10. thanks Anellen, I know what you mean. I picked up my GD from school the other day. The kids in her class were cracking when they came out. She told me that their teacher said she had crossing guard "duty" that day. They morphed "duty" into "doodie." I didn't think it was that humerous, but they sure did.

  11. Kelly,
    Thanks so much for taking the time! I appreciate it...

  12. Thanks! I always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong (or right) time...

  13. mrscolombo@yahoo.comMarch 3, 2010 at 9:09 PM

    I'll have to share this one with Joey! He'll love it...teenage boys are always into any kind of breaking wind stories. :)


This blog is word verification free.
I love your comments and will do my best to respond to each and every one.