My Favorite Animal

[Red Logan #12252]

Our teacher asked what my favorite animal was, and I said, "Fried chicken."

She said I wasn't funny, but she couldn't have been right, because everyone else laughed.

My parents told me to always tell the truth. I did. Fried chicken is my favorite animal.

I told my dad what happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA.

He said they love animals very much.

I do, too. Especially chicken, pork and beef. Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal's office.

I told him what happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.

 

The next day in class my teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was.

I told her it was chicken. She asked me why, so I told her it was because you could make them into fried chicken.

 

She sent me back to the principal's office. He laughed, and told me not to do it again.

 

I don't understand. My parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn't like it when I am.

 

Today, my teacher asked me to tell her what famous person I admired most. I told her, "Colonel Sanders."

Guess where I am now...

[Hardpan Curmudgeon SASS #8967]

Oooohhhh.... that was so ME as a kid!!

 

No kiddin'... when I was in first grade, for some unfathomable reason my teacher, Miss Miller (a naturally nervous sort), often seemed aggravated with the cute li'l freckled kid who sat near the window. That kid (Me!) would frequently be found perched on the "stool of shame" at the front of the class, without ever understanding why. Such a severe case of misdirected blame and miscarriage of justice!

 

So one day, said kid (Me!) decided to take a proactive approach toward smoothing relations with the teacher.

 

On that particular day, Miss Miller (This was in the days before "Ms," otherwise I'm quite sure that would have been the proper title) was wearing a white ruffled blouse, a long (mid-calf length) grey wool skirt, and not-quite-sensible black shoes with heels. Very much in the Mid-1950's style. Anyway, her skirt had a vertical panel down the backside, which inspired my quite active six-year old imagination, and reminded me of a chicken's tail feathers I'd seen in a Foghorn Leghorn cartoon.

 

So, with ONLY the best of intentions, I walked up to Miss Miller, looked up at her, and with a smile said "Gee, Miss Miller! You look just like a big chicken today!"

 

(Hey... I LIKED chickens! )

 

Miss Miller looked at me with at first a totally blank expression.

 

Then her jaw dropped slightly.

 

Then her eyes rolled up slightly, and she took a slight step backward.

 

Then she caught herself... looked at me again... then screamed, burst into tears, and ran from the room, followed by a sea of astonished first-grader stares.

 

I hung my head, and returned to my desk and went back to my task - something with construction paper and paste.

 

A short time later, they came for me. Office people! I was taken to the office, put in a room by myself and given a hard little wooden chair to sit on. I was in Solitary!!

 

Eventually, my mom and Uncle Joe arrived to collect me. Not much was said, other than "Li'l Hardpan, you're going to be going to a new school next week. But now, let's go get some ice cream!"

 

Wonder what ever happened to Miss Miller.... Somehow I just don't think she was quite cut out for teaching.