Tuesday, August 03, 2004

The retard class

Ever recall a childhood memory and wonder what the fuck that was all about? That happened to me today. Besides the fact that I remembered my 2nd grade teacher always scratching her coochie in front of us, because at 7 we’re too stupid to know what she’s doing, I recalled something from 4th grade.

Our school had a supply room and a supply teacher. She didn’t actually teach anything, she just “managed” the supplies in the little independent shed-like building near the playground. When we needed more colored construction paper, someone was sent to Mrs. Pfluger’s room to fetch some.

When I was sitting in traffic today I thought about Mrs. Pfluger. She used to show up to Mrs. Johnson’s class once a week and Mrs. Johnson would send 5 of us with her. Three boys and two girls. Mrs. Pfluger would bring us to the supply room and play a record, some cutesy song. She’d hold her hand out in front of her, facing us, and touch her thumb to forefinger.

“Follow me. Touch. Touch. Touch. Touch,” in rhythm to the music. Then she’d switch hands. “Now your left! Touch. Touch. Touch. Touch.”

Once we got into the groove she’d turn her back and tap her right foot out to the side. ‘Now the left! Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.” This would go on for about 30 minutes, switching back and forth between left and right, until the record stopped. Then she’d line us up and bring us back to the classroom where the rest of our classmates would be in the middle of Reading. This went on every week for about two months.

So 20 years later I’m sitting here wondering… Dude…was I in the retard class?