Tuesday, September 17, 2013

P.M.S...Go Hawks!

A few entries ago I wrote about a teacher of mine, who would take pictures of kids making out at our middle school dances and then post them on a hallway bulletin board.  After the entry posted, a good friend of mine from high school informed me that dear, dear Ms. Schmidt, the photographer, had recently passed away.  Truly, if there was any justice in the world, my middle school - Patton Middle School (yes, go PMS) would have organized an exhibit of her greatest shots, but alas, I fear like all great artists, her masterpieces will be lost.  So let me just say, Ms. Schmidt, I know I cursed your surprise flashes many nights, and probably made a few out of control demands for your film and negatives, but please know, I sincerely thank you for never posting my compromising pictures during Parent Teacher Night or inside the yearbook.  You were truly a class act.  Rest in Peace.

Sorry, sometimes you just have to pay your respects.

Anyway, after reminiscing about Ms. Schmidt I started to reflect on my other bizarre middle school teachers.  (Hopefully, these memories won't spark more deaths and surprise obituaries.)  Here's a few of my favorites:

Mr. Breevort 
Description: Taught science.  Had a scar that ran across his face.  No one knew where the scar came from, but everyone had their theory. While I was there it involved a motorcycle accident and bunsen burner.

Why I remember him?  Had a ridiculous temper.  One minute he would be teaching about Roy G. Biv, and then the next minute it was like he was having a PTSD rage episode.  I want to say he threw a beaker, but I could be making that up.

What I learned?  Well, nothing, unless you count survival - because that is not something you read in a text book.

Mr. Dissinger
Description:  Sex offender mustache, feathered hair, obsessed with Penn State and openly flirted with every student teacher.  (Even the none cute ones.)

Why I remember him?  After watching the video The Miracle of Life, which should never, ever be shown to kids or humans, he passed out pieces of blank paper and had us draw something from the movie.  Again, just so we are clear, twenty seconds after being completely traumatized over seeing a baby come out, 13 year olds were told to draw pictures of it.  I think I drew a sad face and put my head down.

What I learned?  The Penn State fight song and that I never wanted to have a mirror during child birth.

Senora Lazer (I think)
Description: Small.  Very small.  Even at 12, I remember thinking she was the smallest woman in the world.

Why I remember her?  Well, outside of her abnormal size, and the fact that she began my disdain love for foreign languages, one day I received a note from my homeroom teacher that Senora Lazer wanted to see me.  I went down to her room, and after a little awkwardness, she blurted out, "Have you ever heard of 'Party Trains?'"  To this day I'm not really sure what "Party Trains" are, but she wanted to know if kids were having them on the weekends?  For a moment I remember being slightly flattered that she thought I was the one to ask on current trends among my peers, but I had no idea what she was talking about.  Eventually, she said something like, "Well, you'll know what they are if you see them, and if you do, will you let me know?"  I nodded and then headed back to homeroom.  I'll be honest I spent the rest of the year going to parties wondering when the "Train Party" was going to start, and then fearing I was attending the wrong parties because clearly no locomotives were showing up.

What I learned?  Spanish teachers should stay Spanish teachers and not venture out to pathetic adolescent detective work.

If you know what a Party Train is please send me a message and hit that Top Mommy Blog Button...she looks like she could use a Party Train.


Laura Kurz said...

I am just impressed you remember their names. I only remember Mr. Thorpe because he gave me my one and only detention (go ahead, be jealous) and who was our teacher who was Nightrider's brother? Remember that?

Meredith L.F. LaBonte said...

What, no reference to Mr. Woodland's following of grunting 12 and 13 year old boys (it was the years of 'Home Improvement' after all)???