This wrought iron and maple classroom desk was pretty much standard issue at my highschool, but for some reason, what this picture (sorry don’t remember where I found this) makes me remember in particular is Ms. Looney’s AP English class.
My desk was the first one in front of the teacher’s desk. Ms. Looney (who to our amazement went on to become a Mrs. prooving that there’s someone for everyone) was fond of holding up a newspaper to read while we worked on classroom assignments.
One day for reasons I will never know I took the notion to pull fuzz from a thick green sweater and launch it from my cupped hands with a might puff so that the tuft would rise above the top of the newspaper and land somewhere in the vicinity of the teacher’s nose.
I did this several times that day. She never noticed. But when she finally lowered her newspaper, her teacher’s bun was ornamented with a kind of Spanish Moss, the source of snickers for some and a combined dread and pride for one of us. How it is that we survive, any of us, with such stupid notions of the hilarious, I’ll never know–except that we don’t always get what’s coming to us. And besides, these things make for such indelible memories, don’t they?
Somewhere–in an antique store in Idaho maybe–there’s a fold down desk that for all I know has my initials, tiny and in pencil (I was not the worst offender in this regard)– the desk where I sat in Ms. Looney’s english class in 1966. I’m glad I ran across this picture–worth at least a thousand words.