My history teacher

I just got back from taking my grama to the doctor’s office. While we were in the waiting room, I noticed my eighth-grade history teacher signing in.

He looks the same: tan, fit, hunchy right shoulder, cotton-white handlebar moustache, bangs brushed neatly to the side.

He’s a visual character. I went as him for Halloween the year I was his student.

I sprayed my hair white and stretched cotton over my upper lip, fashioning curls at the ends. I wore a plaid dress shirt. I even mimicked his walk and his constant ‘Hmph.’

I was spot-on.

I had so captured his likeness that when I trick-or-treated, my 24-year-old cousin opened the door and said, “Hey! You’re Mr. Arnett.”

Mr. Arnett didn’t take it as a compliment. The next thing I knew I was transfered to Mr. Joyce’s history class.



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6 Responses to “My history teacher”

  1. Gunky Says:

    Hey, I get a point! I said oy loud, “MR ARNETT!” before I even saw the name. I was never in his class, either. So lucid, I am.

  2. T. Says:

    I’m excited for two reasons:
    1) you remembered something!
    2) my description was that good.

  3. Gunky Says:

    You had me at handlebar moustache.
    And it’s supposed to be “out loud”, though I do say “oy!” a lot.

  4. Lisa B. Says:

    Why don’t I remember that costume? Wow, you just took me back to 7th grade history. He used to ‘boo’ if we got 100% on our tests. He was also my neighbor for many years before I was his student. I loved that guy. Glad to hear he hasn’t changed! Did he really move you to Mr. Joyce’s class?

  5. T. Says:

    He really did, immediately.

  6. Rhonda Says:

    Dudette, that’s cold! He needs to lighten up a little.

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