Mrs. Carnahan and the smoker

Note: this is the first Mrs. Carnahan story. I wrote it to perform at an Open Mic Night. You’ll see notes I’ve written to myself about movement.

Hello, Dr. Eierkopf. I understand you wanted to see me. Oh, thank you. (sits)

(sigh of relief) We had a fire drill today at school, and I tell you, a fire drill on a Monday just throws the whole day off. So … how many years has it been since you were a student in my calculus class? That many? And now you’re my boss. How do you like being superintendent? (pause)

Yeah, teaching’s like that, too. Great people to work with, but every now and then, strange things happen.

So, you want to know about what happened last Friday, right? The Hansens phoned you this morning, did they?

Well.

First of all, I appreciate this chance to set the record straight. I know Jenny wasn’t very happy with what happened — neither was I — and I’m not surprised her parents phoned.

Where to begin?

You know over at the high school we’ve been cracking down on smoking in the restrooms. It was just getting out of hand. So all the teachers were assigned “Potty Patrol,” and we had to stand in the restroom between classes to prevent smoking. That was working pretty well in most of the school, but there were some times when a teacher just couldn’t get to the restroom between classes, and there were some students smoking.

And I’ll admit, I was having trouble getting to my Potty Patrol right after fifth period calculus class. This one student, Jordan James, stopped by my desk after class every day for 2 weeks — right after we started potty patrol — always with a question about the lesson. We’d talk until it was almost time for the bell to ring, and then he would scoot across the hall to his next class, and it was time for my sixth period class to start. Do you know Jordan? He has a great mind for mathematics! He’s planning a career in electrical engineering, and he’ll be really good at it.

SO … I wasn’t getting to Potty Patrol because I was helping Jordan. And down the hall, some girl was smoking in that restroom.

Well, Mr. Seymour was not happy with me, and I can’t blame him. He sent me 3 emails about Potty Patrol during those 2 weeks, and he personally came up to my room Friday morning to talk to me about it. He said some girls were complaining about the smoke, said it was happening pretty much every day. I told him about Jordan, and he seemed to understand, but he still wanted me to get down the hall to Potty Patrol.

I mean really — help a student understand mathematics, the language with which God wrote the universe … or try to catch someone smoking in the bathroom – which would YOU do? But, anyway …

So it was Friday, and the kids came to class right after lunch all buzzing. Apparently Jordan’s girlfriend – Jenny Hansen – broke up with him at lunch. The kids said it was quite a scene. Apparently Jenny went so far as to call Jordan’s car a “rust bucket.” And then Jordan walked in, and everyone got quiet, and I started the lesson. Jordan was unusually quiet, too; but about halfway through class, it was like he remembered something, and he smiled to himself, and then he was fine. After class he stopped by my desk again, but this time he just stayed long enough to say thanks for all the extra help I’d been giving him. Then he went across the hall to his next class. As he went out the door, he was kind of talking to himself, and I heard him say, “I might be driving a rust bucket now, but someday I’m going to drive a Tesla.”

I felt for him. But then I realized … I actually had time for Potty Patrol!

(Stand here.)

I grabbed my coffee mug so I could rinse it out, and I hustled down the hall.

And when I got to the girls’ restroom, uh! it was intense! People who smoke have no idea how bad they smell to people who don’t smoke. But while I was choking, I realized I had another problem. You know, we have to catch a smoker “butt in hand,” so to speak, before we can give them detention. How could I do that? She was in a stall.

I went over to the sink, and while I was rinsing out my coffee mug, and I’m not really sure why I did this … but I filled up the mug, stepped over to the stall door, and, uh … emptied the mug. (gesture, throwing water over top of stall)

Well, there was a string of profanity, and the stall door popped open, and there stood a very angry Jenny Hansen.

And that’s when I realized — Jordan James wasn’t worried about his calculus grade. He was keeping me in my classroom so that his girlfriend could smoke in peace. I guess Jenny forgot about that when she dumped him.

So there she stood, dripping wet, giving me the look of death. All I could say was, “I saw smoke, figured there must be fire.”

(Sit here.)

So, Dr. Eierkopf, that’s what happened. Oh, the Hansens didn’t tell you all of it? I’m not surprised. Jenny probably left out some of the details.

By the way, I saw Jordan today. He didn’t have any questions after class. But he did kind of grin as he walked out the door.

(Stand) It’s been great talking with you. Say hi to Christine for me.