Saturday, August 15, 2009

Passing Notes in Math Class

I went to my daughter’s high school orientation today and one of the speakers talked about cell phone texting in class. Apparently, texting during class is the modern day equivalent of passing notes.


I was in Mrs. Truxes 7th grade math class. Mrs.Truxes had cankles larger than her thighs . In fact, if she had wanted to, she could have used her legs as an illustration of an isosceles triangle.

Enough math stuff.

Did I mention that I was a goodie-goodie? I never, ever, EVER got in trouble in school. Until that day in Mrs. Truxes’ math class.

I had a very important question that I wanted to ask Paula Lipton. It could not wait until the end of class. Paula was sitting right next to me. If I whispered to her, Mrs. Truxes would certainly hear. I didn’t know sign language, and even if I did, Paula didn’t know sign language. My options were limited.

Logical thinking prevailed:
1. I needed to ask Paula a question.
2. I had to ask it during math class.
3. I couldn’t use my voice.
4. I couldn’t use sign language.

I really had no choice. I had to pass a note.

My pulse was racing. I took out a sheet of paper, wrote the message, and carefully, quietly folded it into a small rectangle. Then I very nervously passed it to Paula, while Mrs. Truxes was facing the front of the room.

Did I mention that Paula was not a goodie-goodie? Not only was she not a goodie-goodie, she liked to live life on the edge. She was very experienced at breaking classroom rules, including note passing. I nearly wet my pants as she very noisily opened up my rectangle, wrote a response and passed it back to me, without even looking to see which direction Mrs. Truxes was facing!

Well, needless to say, Mrs. Truxes happened to be facing the classroom and she waddled down the aisle to my desk, picked up the note, READ IT TO THE CLASS, and said something to the effect of “Be careful not to drop the soap while you’re in detention today, you juvenile delinquents.”

Detention? Oh my gosh! I had heard of detention before, but knew nothing about it. (This was before The Breakfast Club.) I had no idea what to expect.

I was beet red when I entered the detention room. I was literally shaking in my knee sox and loafers. I saw Paula and sat down next to her. The other students in the room looked at me curiously when I arrived, but put their heads back on their desks for their detention naps.

The detention monitor told us no talking and began to read a book. Wow. I wondered… is this all it is? It’s just a study hall.

After a few minutes I very confidently passed a note to Paula that said, “Detention isn’t too bad!”

Of course, in today’s world, I would have texted ‘dtenson isnt 2 bd’.

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