Or, ‘Karma Bites the hand of the Powerful’
While I grant you that it must have been a bitch to think of things to do with 50+ kids throughout the winter, you can’t just wing it as your passions dictate. One day he was in ‘THE mood’, and decided the boys were going to do ‘step ups’ onto the auditorium stage to take the edge off our “out of control” behavior. The stage was edged with steel and the 90-degree angle shone like a knife blade. Of course, I slip off the stage and let out a yelp. Skin red and inflamed, I gimp over and ask if I can see the nurse. Snarl. Get back up there. Three more step ups and blood is running down my shin onto my sock; girls are covering their eyes and mewing. I gimp over again. This time I get a dismissive wave—‘get outa here.’
I was always ok with seeing my blood. Coming in from the field, I always collected little cuts and scrapes. This new injury didn’t hurt like a knife wound; it was more like a throb that increased as the day wore on.
The nurse is apoplectic. My leg is spouting crimson and she is contemplating an ambulance. Principal’s office is next door. He sticks his head in her door, eyes wide at red gauze. He sees a scandal about to burst, like Noah’s flood. They quietly talk, no ambulance is called. (Imagine the embarrassment if a siren invaded the quiet silence of suburban heaven) Even that young, I knew what was coming–time for a little revenge, served cold with crimson sauce. Concentrate now, boy, no smiling………
“How did this happen, son?”
Don we now our innocent lamb face. “The gym teacher has us doing these step ups on the stage. My foot slipped and the steel on the edge cut me.” (Oh, poor me. Why must I suffer?) No further questions. The nurse wraps my whole leg in ace bandages and gauze, and our little parade returns to the auditorium. There’s something they want to talk to the gym teacher about. And oh yes, my gym class is over—go take a seat. I probably should have gone to the hospital; the scar on my leg was visible into my twenties. It really was one deep slice.
I don’t know what bugged him more–the principal on his ass or me sitting off to the side on my ass for several gym classes. Well, at least the principal apologized.