Adverbs and toots

Because it's too darned purty to stay inside and because I've been working on revising my edited manuscript for the past week, today I'm going to include a segment from a story called "Get My Drift?" This deals with sound effects in the classroom. Again, it's from my upcoming book Lessons with Love, set for publication in January, 2007 by Keokee Press.

Believe me, I doubt there's a teacher that hasn't dealt with toots. Enjoy!

". . . I’m betting none of them (a third-period honors English class), including the offending culprit, ever forgot the lesson they helped teach themselves the day someone let loose with a “loud one” in class. In this case, the lesson evolved because of its timing.

Class had just begun. I’d finished my preliminary “word of the day,” followed by the usual sentence mechanics exercise. We were studying adverbs that week. I began a quick review.

“What are the adverb questions?” I asked.

Within a split second, my query was punctuated, not by a question mark but by a rather loud, sharp fart. There was no question concerning this noise.

It was a fart. Period.

Again, I must remind the reader of my inherent weak restraint toward such happenings. My first reaction was to sit there and compose myself. I was determined to overcome my weakness. On this day, I would NOT laugh. I would not acknowledge what I had just heard. Using every muscle available, I held my lips in a locked position and looked past the sea of hopeful faces, straight ahead toward the back wall. I took a deep breath or two, preparing to move on as if nothing had happened. I could sense the collective attention directed my way. They waited eagerly for my reaction. I resolved to disappoint them. We WOULD move on with adverbs, I vowed silently.

Unlocking my lips, I enunciated clearly.

“WHAT ARE . . .” My voice suddenly rose 85 octaves. “theadverbquestions???” I shrieked before collapsing head first into my desk submitting to a state of maniacal laughter. Tears rolled onto my presentation notes, causing the ink to spread across the page. My adverb notes were disintegrating into blue oblivion. The class was erupting into squeals and full-fledged belly laughs. I dared not look up.

“Get hold of yourself,” my inner voice commanded. “You’ve lost it, you fool! Even if it IS funny, you should not be laughing.” I knew one unknown student was sitting in there, either very horrified or very proud. If the former, then I also knew I’d better straighten up. Once again, calling on all facial muscles to appear for duty, I took a deep breath, directed my face to behave, looked toward the class, and attempted to begin again.

“Okay, what are the adverb questions?” I asked with a sense of urgency not unlike a person racing to the bathroom.

“WHEN?” a student shouted.

“Good,” I said to myself, relieved that I’d gotten past the self-destruction mode. That relief was short-lived.

A split second after “WHEN?” a muffled but audible “Just now” came from an unknown voice among the students, followed by another explosion of glee.

“HOW?” another volunteer shouted, once the laughter died down.

“Really loud” an anonymous voice observed.

“WHY?” another yelled.

“Had beans!” chirped an enthusiastic male voice.

“TO WHAT DEGREE ?”

“Really loud!”

“WHERE?”

“In Room 4!”

The chorus of guffaws, squeals, haw, haw, haw’s would not die down. My classroom had transformed into an adolescent laughing factory. But, they knew the adverb questions!

It all happened so fast I sat speechless, transfixed in total awe. For once, in record time, the adverb questions had rolled off those tongues, like water over Niagra. How could I ever have designed a lesson plan to match this? Never. I was also pretty confident that the planets---er—sounds would never line up so perfectly again.

Nonetheless, I couldn’t find any teacher handbook rules that stated anything about never telling the fart story again. So, from that point on, every year when we reviewed the parts of speech, I could always count on a captive audience while telling about the day the “loud one,” right before the adverb questions, “when, where, why, how and how much?” ignited my students and impressed all five questions into their brains for a long while.

Happy May Day, especially to you, Mercury, wherever you are.