Hygiene and Other Clean Greetings

It's sunny and 64 degrees at the Mini currently. Wind chill makes it feel like, oh I don't know...about 58. The little February warmup has melted all the ice in the lake, but I have no doubt that the water is still pretty icy. All the snow is gone except those dirty little black piles of ice that are leftovers from shoveling or snow plowing. "All the trees are brown, the trees are brown...." You know that one, except the sky isn't gray. It's bright blue and the temperature suggests outdoor activities.

The sad part is that I cannot participate just now. Working with teenagers in a public school, and their hygiene habits, I have managed to come down with my first cold of the season. You know what I mean, runny nose that won't stop no matter what kind of drugs you take ("Nose running? Better go catch it."), sneezing, occasional coughing, red nose, weepy eyes. Oh yeah. Couldn't happen when it was -5 degrees outside. Nope, when it turns nice.

I gave extra credit to students earlier this year who brought in boxes of tissue for the class to use during cold and flu season. Lots of takers. Kids want to pass with the least amount of effort. One kid tried to pass off a roll of toilet paper, stolen from the boys bathroom for the extra credit. I didn't bite on that one. At any rate, with the nose running non-stop and with that of several students also doing the same, my classroom has been through 2 full boxes of tissue this week alone and the reserve is tapped out. Remember that roll of toilet paper. That's on the desk and being meted out currently. Declasse? Probably. Useful? Without a doubt.

Speaking of hygiene, did I tell you about my sixth grade spelling bee? Probably not. It seems that in sixth grade I beat everyone in Mr. Ford's class soundly and was put up against Linda Sidwell from Mrs. Kaiser's class. Linda Sidwell was unanimously considered to be the smartest person in Warren-Dupree Elementary School, if not the entire Pulaski County Special School District. She was indeed a very bright girl. Her father, "Doc Sidwell," not for his MD, but for his PhD in chemistry worked at a local chemical plant, that rumor has it, made Agent Orange for use in Vietnam. Yes, that Agent Orange.

Anyway, Linda Sidwell, the unanimously accepted smartest person at Warren-Dupree Elementary School, probably even smarter than all the teachers, and even the Principal, was taken to a room with myself and two teachers and we were asked to spell for them. Smart as she was, she couldn't spell for shit. I whomped her. The teachers were so taken aback that they let the two of us go an extra two rounds to see if it was just a random anomaly. I won both rounds. I whomped Linda Sidwell, the smartest person in all of Warren-Dupree Elementary School and I whomped her bad (or badly, as the case may be.) Several years later the two of us were thrust together to go the Senior Prom, since both of us were Honor Graduates (Nerds) and neither had a date. That, however, is a story I prefer not to tell.

Well anyway as the newly crowned spelling champion of Warren-Dupree Elementary School I got to represent said school in the Pulaski County Special School District Spelling Bee. I had roughly a month to prepare. My mother was very proud of me and took me out to buy me some new dressup clothes, so I didn't look like a ragamuffin next to the other nerds, in their sartorial spelling splendor. My teacher, Mr. Ford, was very proud of me. He was concerned that I do well, since the District Spelling Bee included kids up to the eighth grade and while I was a pretty darned good speller, I was but a sixth grader. He provided me with an eighth grade spelling book to study. I was, for the most part, very proud of me as well. I got a big head, as big as the Montana sky. I believe at the time Merriam-Webster had my picture included next to the word egomania.

I never studied. I thought I could take on any and all comers. After all, I had beaten Linda Sidwell, the unanimously accepted smartest person in Warren-Dupree Elementary School. What could go wrong?

The fateful Saturday morning arrived and I put on my new District Spelling Bee clothes. Why do you have to dress up to spell for people? I can spell no matter how I'm dressed. I can spell in the nude if I have to. At any rate, my mother took me to the school where the District Spelling Bee was being held, and lo and behold I had butterflies in my stomach. I signed in. They checked me off as being the legitimate representative of Warren-Dupree Elementary School. My mom had to sit in the audience. I was shown a seat in a long row of about 25 other kids.

When the contest began, they started at the beginning of that long row of kids and went sequentially down the row. One or two kids got hard words and were out of the contest early, but for the most part everyone was getting pretty reasonable words and spelling them correctly and smiling for the moms and dads and teachers and assorted geeks and nerds. Then it was my turn.

All eyes turned to me, and then it happened. The person running the Spelling Bee said, "Your word is hygiene." I thought for a minute that seemed like an hour, and I realized then that I should have studied. Hygiene sounds simple, but I had never seen it in print in my life and all I could do was spell it how it sounds. I looked the guy straight in the eye and said, "H-Y-G-I-N-E," and I was gone in the very first round.

I don't remember what my mother said to me that day, but I do remember my encounter with Mr. Ford, my teacher, on Monday. I brought Mr. Ford his eighth grade spelling book and handed it to him quietly. He looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, "I went to the Spelling Bee and I didn't see you. Were you there?" He seemed a little annoyed. I turned beet red from embarassment and quietly replied, "Yes sir. I was there. I missed the first word they gave me." Mr. Ford just shook his head.

I suppose the question is, "Did I learn my lesson about being cocky and egotistical?" I've thought about that a lot in my life, and unequivocally I can say, "Not a chance."