She Talks to Pencils

I have never been genuinely shocked by the degree of bizarreness that apparently exists in elementary schools today--much of which I learn in the form of highly animated blurbages launched across the dinner table. Of course (and firstly), I consider the source: my extraordinarily-dramatic-and-prone-to-exaggeration eight-year-old twin daughters, Thing One and Thing Two. Secondly, having been an educator once myself, I recognize that bizarreness happens in such an environment (yes, I vividly recall one of my ninth graders stapling his finger "just because" and then nonchalantly informing me that he had done so--as if I hadn't noticed!). Thirdly, I take whatever school-related utterances that happen to fall from my kids' lips with a grain of salt--and hope like hell their teachers do the same.

"No, Mr. So-and-So, as a parent I would NEVER EVER allow my second graders to tune into Jeff Dunham's comedy routine and I have absolutely no idea why they keep saying 'Jose Jalapeno, on a steek!!' (much to the amusement of peers)." All the while, I pray to God the man never feels compelled to quiz them on what Juuunior has been quoted as saying or Heaven forbid, that cranky-assed character, Walter. Naturally, I'd deny all involvement and promptly hide my cache of Comedy Central DVDs.

That said, I generally buy into about half of what my brood tells me happens in the Land of Books and Pencils. As a courtesy, I hope those soon-to-be-sainted teachers return the favor.

So when one of my dear children announced that she had missed part of recess because she hadn't finished her work (due to a decidedly "weird-ish distraction" in the classroom), I wasn't fazed in the least. I figured she's as distractible as they come and that more than likely, she deserved such punishment. Further, I thought that perhaps she might benefit from actually being held accountable for something in a sit-your-little-fanny-on-this-curb-until-you're-finished sort of way.

As it turns out, she had benefitted. But not in the manner I had assumed.

Our conversation unfolded thusly:

"Mom, guess what happened to me at school today...I missed part of recess," Thing Two announced over dinner.

"Oh. Why is that exactly?" I asked without looking up from my potato salad or so much as glancing at She-Who-Was-Busy-Confessing-to-Some-Yet-to-be-Disclosed-Atrocity. "Did you stuff a live worm inside your backpack again?" I had to wonder aloud.

"Nope. I didn't finish my work during Centers so I had to do it outside. On. The. Curb," she relayed with a touch of indignation.

"Is that a fact?" I stated, aiming for concern sprinkled with a smidgeon of pity. "That's too bad. Why didn't you finish your work anyway?"

"Because (insert the name of any number of nose miners--I mean dear classmates) distracted me and I couldn't concentrate," she explained.

"Distracted you?"

"Yep. She sat right next to me and I couldn't stop watching her. Really, Mom, I just couldn't."

"Well, (for crissakes) what in God's name did she do? Turn into a toad or something?"

"Nooooo," she whined impatiently. "She made her pencils talk."

"She made her what talk?!" I shouted, nearly choking on my fork.

"She made her pencils talk," she stated matter-of-factly once more.

"The girl can make pencils talk?!" I remarked, thoroughly stunned by the notion and eager as ever to hear more.

"Yep."

"Tell me more, my darling little fabricator."

"What's a fab-ri-cator, Mom?"

"Never mind. Just give me the scoop on the pencil thing?" I demanded.

"Well, she made the Mommy pencil talk to the Daddy pencil."

"What did they say to each other?" I had to ask.

"I dunno. They argued a lot."

"They argued?" (Pencils can argue?!) "About WHAT?" I pressed.

"The babies."

"Whose babies for crying out loud?!"

"Their babies."

"The Mommy pencil and the Daddy pencil had baby pencils together?!" (Pencils can reproduce?!! Good God!)

"Yes. Lots and lots of them. They're tiny erasers actually." She then continued, "The Mommy and Daddy pencils got mad at each other over whose job it was to take care of the babies. She'd make them say stuff like, 'Why don't you help out more around here?! And why do I always have to change their diapers?! I'm tired!'"

"Oh," I said, seriously considering the possibility that this latest and greatest nugget of bizarreness just might top the list of strange utterances involving happenings at school. And of course it was SO bizarre, I believed each and every syllable. My kids can't make up stuff this outlandish. It positively had to be true.

"Yeah, Mom, and she even made them punch each other 'cause they were really mad," she added, punctuating her spiel with smallish grunts to demonstrate how pencils might hit one another if they felt so inclined.

"I see," I responded, now understanding COMPLETELY how she had been mesmerized by such a weird and wonderful display.

In the end, I, too, probably would have chosen to take my lumps (i.e. to sit on the dreaded curb during recess) just to witness something so entirely enthralling. It's not everyday that people get sucked into the life and times of an ordinary pencil--especially when there's high drama involved.

Planet Mom: It's where I live. Visit me there at www.notesfromplanetmom.com and now at www.notesfromplanetmom.blogspot.com, too.

Copyright 2009 Melinda L. Wentzel