The Hall of Shame...One More Reason I Wasn't Teacher of the Year

We all have moments we would rather not relive.  Moments people continually reassure us will be really funny "someday."  (Exactly how long is "someday?" I always wonder.  Long enough that I forget it was me who actually did it and think it was someone else?)

I hate to admit it, but I have had more than my fair share of "moments."  It seems like anywhere from once a month to once a week to sometimes even once a day, someone shakes their head and mutters under their breath, "Only you, Melissa, only you.  I have never met anyone...."

I mean, there was the time--in a mad rush--I changed clothes at a stoplight and forgot to zip my skirt.  It fell down around my ankles when I got out of the car while I (as shocked as anyone) just kept standing there.  When I told my dad about it, he laughed so hard I think he cried.

There was also the time I said, "Who would WEAR something this hideous?" right as a lady stepped out holding the "hideous" item in her hand, clearly on her way to the dressing room (Maybe it helped her realize her fashion faux pas in time?).

Oooooor the time I freaked out after I hung up with my insurance representative...and then realized I hadn't actually hung up.

And as if those times weren't bad enough, most of the rest of the embarrassing moments I can think of (that haven't been repressed already) are so horrifically scarring that only those who were present at the scene of the incident are even allowed to know.  A few I didn't even tell Paul until we'd been married for six months, despite his reassurances that it really was too late for an annulment.  

You see, my embarrassing moments are a pretty serious thing.  One girl told me that one of my stories was the best ice breaker she's ever had.  She just told her group of campers she was in charge of that sumer about how horrible one of my dates was and everyone laughed and said, "Well, I've never had anything that bad happen!" and like magic, everyone seemed to be friends.

I'm worried and half convinced that my own self-inflicted stupidity mixed with bad luck is part of the reason people stay friends with me--just hoping to be present the next time I do something that could incriminate me for life.

I'm the person who, when I get asked, "What's your most embarrassing moment?" just smiles politely and says, "Uh....embarrassing?  Something I've had happen to me that was embarrassing?  Hmmm.....I can't really think of anything off the top of my head."

But as bad as many of these things have been, this past school year I had one of the best (or worst) moments yet.  A moment that got me an official invitation to the Teaching Hall of Shame.
(Don't look that up.  I made that up right now.  But if they did have one, there would be a plaque with my name on it.)

Let's go back to October.  I was a crazy, first-of-the-school-year teacher who was working to keep thirty-two kids and their parents happy, simultaneously plan the dream wedding I'd waited 27 years for, and still find time to see my fiancé (who worked until 9:30 almost every night)--ALL while still trying to squeeze in enough sleep to perform my daily song-and-dance routine of convincing ten-year-olds they really did want to write a report on brine shrimp and learn long division.

To sum it up, I was exhausted.  Totally exhausted.

Then, an adorable girl from my class had to get her appendix out, had complications, and ended up in the hospital for about a week.

Now, we as teachers are not perfect.  Sometimes we're probably not even good.  But, we do love your children.  So, thinking about how much I liked this sweet little student, I got the class to write get well notes, got her a plant for her hospital room, along with some things to do to pass the time while she was there, and headed over to the hospital.  I was sitting in the parking lot when I realized I didn't have a gift bag and there was WAY too much stuff to shove in my purse or haul in bare-handed.

However, to my relief, I spotted a gift bag in my backseat which was left from the bridal shower I'd had  the week before.  Thank goodness I never throw those things away!  I opened it, made sure no spatulas or cookbooks had been left inside, and then took the gift in.

My student and her dad were there, we all chatted for about a half hour, I gave her the gift, and then I went home after a thirteen hour day.   And that was the end of the story.  Go me.  Teacher of the Year.

Until May.

I know.  If you have any Sherlock Holmes in you at all, you have already figured out that this story is not supposed to have a happy ending and people who win Teacher of the Year don't simultaneously land themselves in the Hall of Shame.  So, that being said, your mind is already starting to wonder what could have gone so horribly wrong.

Well, nothing went wrong as far as I knew, until I received this envelope on the last day of school.

For those of you who can't see that, it says: "Mrs. Montoya (for your eyes only)"

Kids give me end-of-year gifts all the time--anything from sweet, handwritten cards to necklaces that say "MO" (I think "Montoya" was just too long....), to gift cards to flowers to candy.  But flowers or candy don't usually come with a note that says, "For your eyes only"........written by the mom......

Imagine my confusion and absolute horror when I opened the card and found this:

Yes, the person who gave me this gift is on my "not nice" list for a LONG time....

Come on…You can put the pieces together.

Luckily for me, this VERY forgiving mother (who also had been teaching fourth grade the year she got married) did.  She figured it all out very quickly.

That's right.  The gift bag I used was not, not, not, NOT, definitely NOT entirely cleaned out.  I know it's shocking to think I could have missed such an enormous and obvious article of clothing. But somehow, in my tired haze, I missed it.  Note and all.

I can only imagine the look on my student's face (and her dad's) as she pulled the items one-by-one from the bag.

"Look!  A plant!  And...a coloring book!  And cards from my friends!  And a puzzle!  And....an....an....???"

Apparently, her dad--who hadn't gotten a very good look--exclaimed, "An eyepatch!  I think it's an eyepatch."

Yes.  It had the same square yardage as an eyepatch.  That was very observant.

But no, her dad didn't figure out exactly what it was until the nurse walked in to find her nine-year-old patient holding up a pink and black polka dot thong....given to her by her fourth grade teacher.

I don't know how she ever came back to school.  I think I would have stayed home and died.  I don't know how her parents got through one or two more parent conferences with me, maintaining straight faces and looking me in the eye.

But, they did have a sense of humor enough to know that someday (there's that word again) this would be funny.  So, they returned my items and told me the whole story.

Once it was summer.

Once I would never have to face them again.

Once I would have months to recover from the shame.

So, there you have it.

And, let's face it.  It IS funny.  In a terrible, "Man, I'm glad that's her and not me," sort of way, it's hysterical.  In the, "I'm glad that was someone else's child but I swear I would have killed that woman," way, it's a riot.

So, with school right around the corner and a fresh set of cardigan-clad teachers who are ready to love your child, you will have something new to be grateful for when, in just a few short months, you and your child both make it through the year virtually unscathed, unscarred, and unembarrassed.  

Come May, when you are thanking your child's teachers with those heartfelt cards and crafts from Pinterest for all that those spectacular educators have done in the last nine months to enrich your child's life, you could always throw in a little, "Aaaaand, on top of everything else, thanks also for never giving her underwear with enough square footage to fit someone's big toe."

I mean, those things happen.  Oooooh, they do happen.

Right here in River City.

Don't worry.  I always have this year to become Teacher of the Year.  And with a streak like mine....I would say my chances are looking preeeeetty darn good.

But, you might want to stay friends with me to wait it out and see--just to be sure.