|
schenkleberg11:11 a.m. - 2001-12-31
I had social studies, reading, and English with the same teacher in sixth grade, for three periods in a row. She was an enormous, outgoing lady who sang in the halls and called herself The Dragon; sometimes she would show movies throughout all three classes. The nerds in the room, through her, became hooked on The Hot Zone, The Far Pavilions, and Shogun. We brought in pillowcases and sewed them together to make an Arab-style tent, then had a feast inside, complete with goat meat (I went vegetarian the next year). Two years later, at my science teacher's dojo, I found myself taking classes alongside her; we sparred more than once. Before then, though, she taught me, and I actually absorbed the information, as did several other students. She told us how the Sumerians and Phoenicians were ahead of their time, and even had brain surgery and indoor plumbing, while the Dorians were, as she put it, "steeeeeewwwpid." And she taught us about the Vikings, and how they would wait until the dead of the night, when even the most restless sleepers in whatever ill-fated town they had singled out had fallen asleep, to attack and plunder. She pulled my at-the-time best friend up to use as an example.I sat in the front row, then, since we were seated alphabetically, and I wondered which would be worse: being asleep and unaware when the attack came, or actually being awake and aware, but unable to do anything to prevent it from coming. I was up and wandering the house at three last night, and I decided I'd rather be awake. And because I, needless to say, couldn't sleep, I formulated a plan of escape to carry out in the event Vikings, or vampires, or even that bloody axe murderer from the old neighborhood decided to attack the house. They haven't come yet, but I'm ready for them. I didn't have any dreams last night, none I remember anyway, and I did fall asleep around four. A sitting duck for the Vikings if ever I saw one. Bah.
back * forth
|
