Anyway, let me get back to our
story. I think we were at McCrory, Arkansas, when I got off on that
house-building tangent.
A few light moments occurred, over
the years, regarding the plants in my biology room. Once, at the end
of the school year, I was getting ready to carry out my plants, and
Barbara and coach Hart were in my class room. Knowing coach Hart was
always open to any kind of physical challenge, I said, "Coach
Hart, I'll bet you're not man enough to take this little cactus plant
in your hand, and squeeze it into mush." The plant had thousands
of tiny, hairlike spines all over it. Had Barbara not been in the
room, I figure he would have passed. But he was too much of a man to
back off from a physical challenge in front of any woman. He took
that plant in both his hands, and squeezed the life clean out of it.
He showed no emotion, at all, but I did notice he walked around the
next day with both hands open, and turned out.
I had a large plant stand at the
back of my room, just full of plants. I got to noticing at one point,
lots of my boys were really getting into plants, stopping by the
plant stand and looking them all over good when they came in each
day. The interest was spreading. Soon, a large group gathered around
it each day. I must really be a great teacher! They were really
getting interested in biology! I was so proud.
One day my student
aid took pity on me and clued me in.(Thanks)
She pointed them out. Several small
marijuana plants were coming up! Not really knowing what to do with
this crop, I pulled the plants and took them over to Mr. Trammel, the
principal. When he saw what I was handing him, he pulled his hands
back and backed off. "I don't want them!" he said "all right," I said, "You're
my witness, and I'm yours!" I said as I tore them up and dumped
them in the trash can.
When I was young, a certain type
of Nettle plant was common in the field I had to cross to go swimming
in the creek. Every time I accidentally touched it, I just itched for
hours! I remembered that plant, when I was teaching biology at
McCrory, and transplanted one to my classroom, along with a big sign,
DO NOT TOUCH THIS PLANT. Several of the guys just went by it, slyly,
and rubbed against it. I could always identify those, because they
scratched all period.
An elderly Doctor's house was
robbed in town once, and a human skull was stolen. I, as the biology
teacher, and the logical one, was asked to advertise for a human
skull in hopes of trapping the thief.Well, I didn't want to, but I finally did. I was tickled when
nobody showed in class, a skull in a bag, asking for payment. In my worst nightmares, I could just
imagine a student going out and digging one up to make a few bucks.
I gave Barbara a good camera for her
birthday, and our lives began to change forever. She loved it, found
out she was good at it, and before long she wanted to do it
professionally. She located an old photographer who was retiring, and
bought his stuff. He agreed to teach her how to handle the darkroom,
and portrait photography in general. “Come back tomorrow, and we
will start. It may take several days.” Well, I had to go back to
work tomorrow, and I hesitated. Then he said, seeing my doubt, “I'm 70 years old. You don't have to worry about me.” Well, she went
back alone, and she learned some about the darkroom, and a lot about
old men. When she came home, she said, “I'm not going back alone.
You've got to go with me.” We went back together, and he finished
up his "teaching" in one day.
Soon she was doing a lot of
photography out of our converted garage. She was too busy, with a
full coaching load. She asked to drop her coaching, but keep her
teaching job. The boss smiled with satisfaction, then said no. He had
finally made her pay the price for her victories regarding girl's
sports. She resigned, and he immediately hired a replacement lady to
teach her classes, then turned the coaching over to the men.
I went to have a talk with the
superintendent. Asked him why he would not require the new girl's PE
teacher to coach, but required Barbara to. He really didn't have a
good explanation for that, but we both knew why. After I said a
couple more things, he said, “Pat, you're making me mad!' I told
him he had already made ME mad. He threw a sheet of paper and a pen
to me, said, “If you don't like what I do, write out your
resignation.” I told him if he wanted to get rid of me, he would
have to fire me. Otherwise I would resign at a time of my choosing.
That about wound up our conversation. He didn't fire me. He left
before I did, as it turned out.
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