They say truth is stranger than fiction, so it came as no surprise when my wife shrugged off my account of the field trip I’d taken that day with my class into Manhattan. She shook her head, sure it was more of my tomfoolery. “Honest, you can’t make this stuff up,” I said. But let me back up.
A week earlier, there had been a knock on my classroom door. It was Joe, our assistant principal. “Tom, would you be interested in taking your class into Manhattan next week? They want a middle school class to preview and critique a potential new television program.”
“Sounds like a great opportunity, Joe. Please count us in!”
A week later, our bus pulled up to the famous Barbizon Hotel. I had prepped my class and told them to do a good job. “Perhaps they’ll even have us back.”
At the theater door, the network host stopped me. “We really prefer to speak to the students only. Here’s an envelope with $20. Get yourself a little bite to eat. See you in two hours.”
I was disappointed, though impressed by the $20, which beat my weekly allowance. I would have loved to have seen the show and even offered my opinion, but “herein lies the rub.” They obviously wanted unbiased youth without adult direction.
So off I went for a stroll along the sidewalk across from Central Park. I didn’t know Manhattan well, and the beautiful stores of the Upper East Side felt surreal. “This is really quite a nice place,” I thought.
Suddenly a voice called out, “Mr. Schenkel, what are you doing here?” It was Michelle D., a former student, now an attractive young woman with beautiful red hair. We caught up on all things Garden City until she said, “Why don’t we have a cup of coffee? My ride isn’t due for another half hour.”
Michelle, it turned out, was on her way to Paris on business. Beautifully dressed and quite the lady, she made wonderful company as we sat under a Cinzano umbrella. I had been rescued in Manhattan by a lovely lady. So much for the “damsel in distress” myth.
When I reached for my $20, she pushed the envelope back. “It’s my treat! This was such a great encounter. I’ve got to catch my flight to Paris!” She hugged me, kissed me on the cheek, and her cab pulled away.
I returned to the Barbizon just as the studio doors were opening. Everyone was smiling. The students had been given lunch and healthy snacks in exchange for their opinions. On the bus ride home, a curious student asked, “So what did you do, Mr. Schenkel?”
“Well, I took a stroll along Central Park and met a beautiful lady with gorgeous red hair. We had coffee under an umbrella, she kissed me on the cheek, and she flew off to Paris.”
My students weren’t buying it. That night, my wife asked about the trip too. “They only wanted students and gave me $20 for lunch. So I took a stroll, had coffee with a beautiful redhead, and she flew off to Paris.” She didn’t buy it either, though she did ask about the $20.
Looking back now, no teacher on earth would hand his class over to a television network and go take a walk. But I can’t say I regret the coffee.
Addendum: Dear Michelle, if you haven’t moved to Paris, let’s have coffee again and “make like Heinz and catch up.” This time the drinks are on me. You see, I still have that $20 bill (lol).
Mr. Shankel,
I was on line in Magic Fountain with my family and you walked in. We immediately looked at each other and smiled and you said “Carla Cacioppo! How are you?” I couldn’t believe you remembered me! You impacted me tremendously when I was transferred mid-year into your class. (If you know, you know! With your memory, I am sure you do) I enjoy reading your stories! Thanks!