Stuffed Animals - Interlude

I wrote about my stuffed animals and their history a few weeks ago. One of my readers, questingbeast responded that she had not known I was a stuffed animals person.

She responded further by making and sending to me a beautiful blue teddy bear with a bowtie.

He is not yet named. I will try to let folks know when he tells me what to call him.

A Cautionary Tale

Once upon a time, I was a 7th grader at a small (180 students in grades 7-12) private school. I was not a good student, though I learned all of what they taught me. I tended to have a wandering mind (unlike today, right?).

In Science Class, we were dissecting crawfish - and I hated the smell of formaldehyde and I hated the rubbery wet feel of the crawfish.

I got to thinking... What does happen when you stick something in an electric outlet?! I knew what we had been told but not really a) what it meant or b) if it was yet another of those exaggerations that adults were and are so prone to. And... it was science class, after all!

I got out my tweezers from the lab desk drawer.

I stuck them in the outlet.

The science teacher immediately clopped me on the head! "Don't do that! I didn't even see him cross the room to me, but there he was. I dropped the tweezers immediately.
*****
Two weeks passed.

It was after school. The nature of the school coupled with the size led detention to be a rotating activity. Mr. Smith, the science teacher, was hosting detention that afternoon. And I had it. I don't remember why, nor is it important, but I was the only person in detention. As I was a generally well behaved kid, leaving me alone was not considered unreasonable.

It was time for the control version of the experiment. I had an operating theory. When you stick tweezers into the electric outlet, the science teacher clops you on the head!

I looked down the hall. He was nowhere in sight. I returned to my lab desk and opened the drawer. I looked around. I stuck the tweezers into the outlet.

Thwap!

As I dropped the tweezers, a voice rang out, "I thought I told you not to do that!"

Out of thin air, Mr. Smith had appeared and clopped me on the head again!
*********
5 years and two high schools later, I was in the waiting room for admissions at Dartmouth College. I was trying to figure out what story I could tell to explain my style of learning that would make up for the fact that I was graduating in the bottom 40% of my class. How could I convince them that I would be a great Dartmouth student.

I looked around the room, searching for inspiration.

The mother (not mine) in the chair next to mine was sewing. On the table was her sewing kit, which had a pair of tweezers in it. I was thinking of this tale and knowing that this was not the way to go, when the Assistant Director of Admissions came in. He looked at me. His eyes followed mine to the tweezers and then returned to me.

He shook his head.

"You haven't learned." It was said sadly. And there was Mr. Smith.

I did not get into Dartmouth College. I am sure that the tweezers had nothing to do with it.