The Day the School Almost Tipped Over

Show and tell was going fine until a trailer pulled up behind the cafeteria.

In retrospect, I still find it hard to believe. As a young teacher, I was anxious to anchor my popularity with my students and I had developed a good reputation with the school administrators so they knew my intent was a good one. With confidence and conviction, I knocked on the principal’s door and asked Dr. G. for a few minutes of his time.

Without hesitation, I laid my cards on the table. I told him that I had an idea that I wanted to run by him. “Many of my students have household pets (not all). Some have said how great it would be if they could bring in a pet for a ‘show and tell’ public speaking presentation.” I told Dr. G. that all pets (if he permitted) would be accompanied by a parent and quickly ushered away. Also, no two pets would be allowed in the building at the same time. Perhaps it was my enthusiasm or the fact that it would involve parents participating in the presentation that moved him to say, “Yes.” We decided that the cafeteria would be the perfect place for the presentations. It was removed from the academic area and parents could literally drive up to the door. This was agreed upon and the other details were discussed.

Now, let me reiterate from the outset that not all students had pets. In fact, the majority of students did not. We had our fair share of collectibles, sports equipment, photography, rock collections, stamp collections, etc. There was no doubt, though, that all students were thrilled when permission was given to bring in and present their beloved pets.

It was quite obvious that the students were excited and enthusiastic to be out of the classroom. Everyone enjoys a change of pace and a change of venue, but the excitement was almost palpable when the pets started to arrive. The variety of pets also added to our enjoyment. Yes, we had our share of cats and dogs, hamsters and rabbits; but things started to step up a notch with the arrival of a pet boa constrictor. He proved to be quite harmless, nonetheless, students were reluctant to drape him around their shoulders. Little did I realize, though, that the best was yet to come.

I received a call from a mother with an interesting request. Lenora, and her family, had recently arrived from Texas. Up until now, she had been a quiet and unassuming girl, but my impression was about to change. Mrs. Bell told me over the phone that Lenora was a show horse rider, and that she wanted to show her horse, Clover, to the class. Mrs. Bell assured me that she would pull up to the field outside the cafeteria, and that after her speech, she would place Clover back into the trailer and drive away. So convincing was she on the phone and so charming with her Texas drawl, that I told her it sounded like a wonderful opportunity for the class.

On the appointed day, Mrs. Bell arrived (trailer in tow) and we exited from the cafeteria and took a short walk onto the adjoining athletic field. The presentation was a triumph. From the outset, the students were enthralled and Lenora won our hearts and admiration for her equestrian prowess. Indeed, it was a resounding success, or so I thought.

It was later in the day that I was summoned to the principal’s office. I knew from the moment that I stepped into the office that all was not quiet on the administrative front. “Tom, when I granted you permission to have your students bring their pets to school, I had no idea that someone would bring in a horse!” I immediately apologized and told him that I probably should have sought out further approval but I assured him that it was without mishap and had been a resounding success.

“I know, Tom, but the other teachers said that they thought the school would tip over with all the students looking out the windows!” I wanted to respond with a remark about how the teachers should have better discipline or more interesting lessons, but I thought better of it. I apologized again, and assured him that we were all done with our public speaking assignments. Even though Dr. G. knew that I had only the best of intentions, it was quite obvious that I was no longer the teacher’s (or the principal’s) pet.