Mrs. Bock and the M&Ms
Two events in the past two days have brought this story to mind, so I really must share.
In eighth grade, I was selected to go to an Iowa regional math bee. Yes, Math Bee. As in dork. Please move on. At that time, I was a smart lad with a bright future slide-ruling in front of me. I had won fourth place in the sixth grade math bee so expectations were high and my dream job was to be a corporate accountant (yawn -- oh, wait, what do I do now?).
But wait! You need the back-story.
Mrs. Bock was a delightful woman. She was 50 inches tall, had a super-tight-curly/beehivey hairstyle, and wore glasses that made her look like the orphanage headmaster in Stuart Little -- although I didn't have this clever comparison at the time. (Did you know that that person is the same person as SNL's "Pat" ?) Mrs. Bock occasionally had trouble getting our attention in class and so would send up a shrill whistle and pound on the chalkboard with a piece of chalk until we were quiet or the chalk broke. So, maybe delightful wasn't the right word for her, but I'm sure she was nice outside of the classroom. To adults. Adults that were good at math. Maybe.
So, we (four math scholars and Mrs. Bock) were on our way to Fort Dodge, Iowa. Did I mention that she drove a Dodge Omni? Looking back, that seems like a very small car for five people to use as a mode of transportation. I was in the back of the Dodge Omni and had -- minutes before -- become the proud owner of a pounder bag of M&Ms. I tugged at the corner of the package. I tugged at the side. I tried to pry the bag apart by pulling the sides outward. I flipped it over and made similar attempts from the other end. I finally got some purchase on the slippery packaging and pulled with all my might.
BAM!! The original M&M blizzard. There were M&Ms flying through the air -- like an edible abacus treat -- out the window, between the seats, gumming up our calculators and sticking to our story-problem worksheets. It was devastating. And then I noticed that M&Ms were falling from the back of Mrs. Bock's head. There seemed to be hundreds of them caught in that little beehivey "Home for Unbagged-Candy". Every time she turned her head at a crossroad, M&Ms fell out. I'm not kidding.
I don't have any idea how my team did at that Math Bee. I do know that we didn't place in the top 10. I don't think we even really made a showing. You just can't do difficult math problems once you've been through trauma like that.
I haven't seen Mrs. Bock in 20 years. I hope she is doing well. I also hope she never uses a hair dryer, because you know...M&Ms melt in your mouth, not in your hair.
In eighth grade, I was selected to go to an Iowa regional math bee. Yes, Math Bee. As in dork. Please move on. At that time, I was a smart lad with a bright future slide-ruling in front of me. I had won fourth place in the sixth grade math bee so expectations were high and my dream job was to be a corporate accountant (yawn -- oh, wait, what do I do now?).
But wait! You need the back-story.
Mrs. Bock was a delightful woman. She was 50 inches tall, had a super-tight-curly/beehivey hairstyle, and wore glasses that made her look like the orphanage headmaster in Stuart Little -- although I didn't have this clever comparison at the time. (Did you know that that person is the same person as SNL's "Pat" ?) Mrs. Bock occasionally had trouble getting our attention in class and so would send up a shrill whistle and pound on the chalkboard with a piece of chalk until we were quiet or the chalk broke. So, maybe delightful wasn't the right word for her, but I'm sure she was nice outside of the classroom. To adults. Adults that were good at math. Maybe.
So, we (four math scholars and Mrs. Bock) were on our way to Fort Dodge, Iowa. Did I mention that she drove a Dodge Omni? Looking back, that seems like a very small car for five people to use as a mode of transportation. I was in the back of the Dodge Omni and had -- minutes before -- become the proud owner of a pounder bag of M&Ms. I tugged at the corner of the package. I tugged at the side. I tried to pry the bag apart by pulling the sides outward. I flipped it over and made similar attempts from the other end. I finally got some purchase on the slippery packaging and pulled with all my might.
BAM!! The original M&M blizzard. There were M&Ms flying through the air -- like an edible abacus treat -- out the window, between the seats, gumming up our calculators and sticking to our story-problem worksheets. It was devastating. And then I noticed that M&Ms were falling from the back of Mrs. Bock's head. There seemed to be hundreds of them caught in that little beehivey "Home for Unbagged-Candy". Every time she turned her head at a crossroad, M&Ms fell out. I'm not kidding.
I don't have any idea how my team did at that Math Bee. I do know that we didn't place in the top 10. I don't think we even really made a showing. You just can't do difficult math problems once you've been through trauma like that.
I haven't seen Mrs. Bock in 20 years. I hope she is doing well. I also hope she never uses a hair dryer, because you know...M&Ms melt in your mouth, not in your hair.
posted by ShortStoryMadeLong at 9:28 PM
1 Comments:
Be careful when you talk about adults who are good at math!
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