By: Adam Sutton
“Hello, this is Mr. Fitzgibbons. I am looking for Marcus’ mom or dad. I’m his Math teacher.”
“This is Marcus’ mom.”
“Hi, I just wanted to give you a call because lately Marcus has been acting out in class. Today, he was humping his neighbor’s desk in…”
“Yes, umm, he was humping the desk. It’s a little tricky to describe, but he bent himself over the desk next to him and proceeded to thrust his pelvis on the top of the desk. One foot sort of came off the ground while he was, you know, humping.”
“Marcus! What did you do in Math today?! Humping?!” Marcus’ mom yelled on the other end of the line.
Mr. Fitzgibbons can hear Marcus’ defense on his end. “Ma, he said humping? Really? I wasn’t humping the desk. I was riding it.”
“What? What is the matter with you son?! Riding the desk? Get on the phone.”
“What? Why?” Marcus said reluctantly.
“Apologize,” his mom insisted. “You already wasted enough time today. Hurry it up cause I’m about ready to beat you.”
“Mr. F. I’m sorry.”
“Marcus. Marcus. Marcus.” The entire room was quiet and attentive if not for Marcus standing a top Jorge’s desk trying to recite the Gettysburg Address.
“Yo, it’s something like 6 score and..what’s a score? Anybody remember?”
“Marcus!” Mr. Fitzgibbons begged for his attention.
“It was probably a typo. They didn’t know much back then. Bunch of dummies,” Marcus continued. The class was entertained by Marcus’ display but not particularly impressed.
Picking up the phone Mr. Fitzgibbons called the office, “I need an administrator in room 223. I have a student on a desk refusing to get down.”
“Mr. Fitzgibbons, how are you this fine morning?” Mr. Simpson, the principal, asked.
“I’m doing well. Getting ready to start period 1 with some trigonometry,” he said gesturing into his classroom. “Want to join us?”
“I may have a second,” Mr. Simpson replied, stepping into the room as a pencil flew inches from his nose. “Mr. Fitzgibbons, what’s up with all the students chewing gum in here?”