Something Awkward Happened To Me At Work Today

As a teacher, there are ample opportunities for one to embarrass oneself.  I’m in front of teenagers about five hours a day, every weekday, for ten months out of the year.  In the past, I’ve always been worried about unstoppable bodily functions.  I won’t go into specifics, but you get the idea.  That’s always been my biggest fear.  The point is, every moment is a minefield of possible mortification.

Today something happened that’s never happened to me in quite the degree it did.

Before I begin, though, let me provide a little bit of background information.  We’re trying something new this semester called an “advisory period.”  For old folks like me, it’s sort of like what we called “homeroom” back when we were kids.  Theoretically, we’ll keep this same group of teens for advisory period every year that they are in high school until they graduate.  It’s an interesting idea that I think could prove beneficial.  Luckily, I’ve got an amazing group of students.  They really are fantastic.  Here’s the thing, though: I only see them twice a week.

Allow me to share just a bit more to help put this story in context.  I’ve taught now for seventeen years.  I conservatively average about 120 new students each semester.  That’s 240 students a year, which means I’ve had to learn over 4,000 students’ names during my career so far.

That’s a lot of names.

Can you see where this is going?

So today I’m doing an activity with my advisory period kids.  I’m running through the room, calling on kid after kid–no issues.  And then I get to a particular student–a student I’ve spoken with on a regular basis since the semester started.

I drew a blank.

Now, this is not the first time I’ve struggled to remember a name during my time as a teacher, especially when so early in a semester.  Usually, a second or two goes by, and it hits me.

Not this time.

I stared at the student.

He stared at me.

It got awkward.

I didn’t have my seating chart within reach.  I wasn’t near my computer, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because I didn’t have attendance up on my screen.

I kept staring at him, smiling.

I saw the realization set in upon his face that I couldn’t remember his name.  A look of amusement in his eyes slowly turned to disbelief, then discomfort, then horror.

I peeked at the rest of the room and they all gaped at me.  No one would come to my rescue.  Though, to be honest, they might have thought I’d feel insulted if they did.

I told myself not to panic right before I panicked.

“Help me out,” I said to the young man.  “Give me the first initial.”

“P.”

Nothing.  I still had nothing.  I wanted to say “Nick.”  I wanted to say “Nick” so bad, but the kid just told me “P.”

“P!”

I briefly considered the possibility that he didn’t know his own name, that, in fact, I was right after all.  I abandoned that hope almost instantly.

I could feel myself grinning like an idiot, trying to play it off, but the awkwardness grew unbearable.  If you know me, you understand that’s quite a statement.  I exist in a perpetual state of awkward.  For the awkwardness to be so potent–so powerful–that it paralyzed me … well, that level of awkwardness might have killed a lesser man.

I had one more play.  Just as I was about to make it a game, to have the class offer me some hints, the student in question had had enough.  He called out his name to me–“Parker*.”

“Parker!”

How could I forget “Parker!”

I apologized profusely to both he and the rest of the class.  I joked about my age, how they can expect that sort of thing to happen more often from me.  On the inside, I was mortified.  I’ve never before experienced that level of forgetfulness in a pressure situation.  I absolutely feel like if I’d stood there for an hour looking at him, I still wouldn’t have come up with his name.

The class laughed it off with me, but I could see it on their faces–as far as they were concerned, I’d aged decades to them in that moment.

I’m barely over halfway through my career, people.

By the time I reach retirement age, I’m going to be lucky to remember my own name.

 

*The students real name has been altered in the interest of protecting his identity.

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(Did you enjoy this article?  Check out Scott William Foley’s e-book series HERE)

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Dan Le Batard, Alexa, and Me

Alexa and the Amazon Echo always kind of freaked me out.  Amazon is pretty direct in admitting that the Echo is always listening for “Alexa,” its activation phrase.  And then, about a year ago, stories started circulating that people could hear a faint laughter emitting from it.  This unsettled me to the point that it inspired a horror story.

However, some family members recently bought a few Echos for their house and, admittedly, they were super cool.  My kids loved asking Alexa questions and, personally, I found the option of just asking about the weather or any other kind of information without having to run to my phone or laptop pretty enticing.

Unfortunately, the idea of that thing always “listening” still gave me the creeps.

I bet you’re wondering what any of this has to do with Dan Le Batard.

If you’re not familiar with Dan Le Batard, he co-hosts a program called The Dan Le Batard Show With Stugotz on ESPN Radio.  I discovered these guys a few years ago and I listen to them almost religiously.  Dan is a former sports writer who ventured into TV and radio as he foresaw the decline of print.  I find Dan’s sense of humor clever, but he’s also very insightful and, in my opinion, often calls things correctly.  He recognizes the ridiculousness in sports and isn’t afraid to contradict popular talking points.  Half of the time, he doesn’t even talk sports even though it’s technically a “sports” show.

Stugotz is every boneheaded sports fan to have ever existed, and we love him for it.  He speaks in cliches, he wins arguments by making you prove him wrong, and if you haven’t done anything for him lately, then what have you really done for him?  Jon Weiner is playing a character with Stugotz, but mostly in the same way your teacher plays a character.  Stugotz is Jon Weiner, and Jon Weiner is Stugotz.  I imagine that Stugotz is just Weiner enhanced and unfiltered.  The guy is so popular, he has his own army.

I listen to these men virtually every night as I cook and wash dishes.  Their radio show ends around noon, but they strip the morning program down to it’s best moments with a podcast available on ESPN.com.  You can find their archives here: http://www.espn.com/espnradio/podcast/archive/_/id/9941853

So what does this have to do with Alexa and the Amazon Echo?

Often, when I’m doing dishes and enjoying the show, one of my children comes into the kitchen and asks me a question.  Because I listen to it loudly enough to overtake the sound of water, pots, and pans, I have to dry my hands, go to my phone, and then hit pause.  After I deal with whatever they need, I then push play again and go back to my dishes.  This typically happens a few times a night–night after night.

I got to thinking … wouldn’t it be nice if I could just say “pause” or “volume down” instead of going through that whole process?  There was just one problem.  I didn’t think ESPN entertainment would be available through Alexa. I kind of figured the whole Amazon and Disney competition would render that an impossibility.

However, I did a little research, and it seemed that because The Dan Le Batard Show With Studgotz is available through many podcasts outlets, it should be generally retrievable by Alexa via the internet.

There was only one way to know for sure.

The next time I was at my family’s house, I approached their Echo.  I said, “Alexa, play The Dan Le Batard Show With Stugotz.”

A half second passed.

It felt like a century.

And then … I heard that wonderful music coupled with Papi’s introduction.

I ordered my Echo that night.

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(Did you enjoy this article?  Check out Scott William Foley’s short stories HERE!)

Stuck Inside On This Snowy Day? Let Me Help With That!

Stuck inside on this snowy day?  Let me help with that!  I would love it if you downloaded my e-book series entitled Dr. Nekros.  Each installment is only ninety-nine cents.  That’s almost five hundred pages of writing for less than three dollars!  It’s available on both the Nook and the Kindle–remember, these are free apps on your phone.  Trust me, at first you’ll love to hate the good doctor, but in the end, you’ll hate to love him.

Find all three books at this link: https://scottwilliamfoley.com/

Don’t have time for an entire book?  No worries–I understand.  I also have many, many short stories available for your Nook and Kindle as well.  Though I write in a variety of genres, they all focus on that which we all have in common–our humanity.  Some will make you laugh, some will make you cry, some will make you think, and others will make you hide under the covers.  I promise you, though, each will entertain.  They are also only ninety-nine cents each.

Click the following link to find them all: https://scottwilliamfoley.com/e-book-store/

As always, thank you for your readership.

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Here’s a Few Thanksgiving Stories For Your Nook or Kindle

Are you in the mood to read a Thanksgiving story on your Nook or Kindle?  Here are a few for you to download tonight.  Both are full of humor with a positive message.  I’d be thankful if you gave them a chance!

Cold Turkey

Click “Kindle” to download

Click “NOOK” to download

Utterly unapologetic, Eddie stands fuming outside in the bitter cold while his son, wife, and in-laws sit silently at the dinner table, surrounding a cold turkey.  How did such woeful events arise? Read on to find out!

LoveLiesPumpkinPies

Click “Kindle” To Download

Click “Nook” To Download

In this short love story, Ramona Stocks, a retired science teacher, and Matthew Campbell, a widower, find romance amidst a torrent of lies and pumpkin pies.

Today, Something Embarrassing Happened To Me In Front Of My Entire Class

Statistically speaking, when you stand in front of people for eight hours a day, five days a week, during a career that could span as long as thirty-four years, something embarrassing is bound to occur every once in a while, right?

Well, my friends … read on.

Today I met my seniors in high school for the first time.  During 5th period, which is around eleven a.m., I stood before a group of students as they listened attentively.  While I ran through the syllabus with them, I suddenly felt a tickle in my nose–the right nostril, to be precise.

I ignored it and kept talking in the hopes that it would subside.

But then I felt something jar loose.

I realize now that the smart thing to do at that point would to simply excuse myself for a moment, blow my nose with my back to the class or out in the hall, and then return to addressing them as a group.

That would have been the smart thing.

Instead, I pressed on.

I’m not sure what I expected to happen, but some trace of flawed logic believed that an item breaking free from my nasal passage would not necessarily result in a total surrender to gravity.  I guess I thought–hoped–that whatever had emancipated itself would remain in place.

Before I knew it, I felt a string of cold, wet … gunk … hanging from my nostril.

Not dropping from my nostril–HANGING FROM MY NOSTRIL.

Fight or flight kicked in.

I could run out of the room, or I could take action.

I chose action.

Did I have time to grab a tissue?  That would mean that the detritus would remain in place as I traversed the span of the room.  No, that would not do.  The debris must be dealt with immediately.  I could not risk providing a picture opportunity.  This moment would not live on in social media infamy.

With a whip of the hand, a strategic swipe of the forefinger, the goo got wiped away.

It did not dissipate, nor did it fling to the floor.  No, it clung to my finger, still easily discernible to the observant eye.

Operating on pure instinct, I moved to the tissue box, yanked out a tissue, and swiped the miserable muck off my person before jettisoning it into the garbage.

And then … I faced the class.

Once again … fight or flight time.

Within a span of five seconds, I said the following …

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, that was gross.”

“It just fell out, out of nowhere!”

“Yuck, it was gray.  Probably gray matter.  My brains are falling out!”

“If I’m not here tomorrow, you’ll know why.”

“At least you’ve all got a story to tell now.”

“Let’s just move on and pretend this never happened.”

So, there you have it.  Is that the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me in front of an entire class?  So far, probably.  Hey, I made it sixteen years teaching before something abruptly and uncontrollably left my body.  That’s a pretty good run, right?

Man.

I hope that’s as bad at it gets.

 

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(Did you enjoy this article?  Check out Scott William Foley’s latest book HERE!)