My daughter flew in for a quick visit with her two grandmothers. She surprised her Gram for her birthday, and Grammie (my Mom) benefited from the plan.
A few of us gathered in Mom’s room for a chat. The frequent subject of clumsiness came up—a few of us are incident-prone.
“I remember one day at high school.” Mom shook her head. “Before classes began, I rushed to the ladies’ room. The bell rang while I was drying my hands. I glanced down the empty hallway.”
We groaned at the embarrassment of being tardy in 1943.
“I noticed the hallway floors were newly waxed and very shiny. My class was the last one at the end. I calculated that I might just make it into class before the sound of the bell stopped if I slid without my shoes.”
We murmured with anticipation.
“I removed my shoes, gripped them tightly, took a deep breath, and sprinted a few feet. I slid the full length of the hallway in my stockings. It was fun! My plan worked perfectly.”
We held our breath.
“Until I grabbed onto the door-jam to stop myself.” Mom lifted her hands. “My feet flew over my head. My books scattered into the class. I followed them on my back, all the way under my teacher’s desk. The final note of the bell stopped.”
Mom bit her lip and grimaced. “The class howled with laughter. The wind was knocked out of me. I lay there looking up into my handsome teacher’s face, while I wriggled my dress down from where it was twisted around my waist.”
“He was my favorite teacher, and I had a big crush on him.”
We groaned again at the unfairness of it all.
“He looked down at me and said, ‘Miss ____, that’s the darnedest way I’ve ever seen a student enter my classroom.’ His gorgeous face broke into a grin, and he winked at me.”
There you have it—Grammie’s principle on how to make yourself unforgettable.
#highschool #memories #unforgettable