DEFICIENCY OF BALLS

The teacher had a deficiency of balls for a few months.  Some had been kicked over fences, others thrown on roofs, and one flaccid survivor leaked.  But when does a teacher have the time to order new balls?  After consistent begging from his fifth-graders, the teacher put in an order for five inflatable ten-inch and five inflatable eight-inch red balls.  He didn’t really need ten balls, but the ball company required a minimum order of at least ten items.  The sensible thing to do was to order for a bunch of teachers, which he did.

     Naturally, Susy, the secretaries, poked fun at him.  It didn’t help that he happened to be the only male teacher at the school and here he was ordering well, you know…balls.

     “Did you get your you-know-whats?”  Susy chided him.   Or, “Mr. K, did they come yet?” smirked Jane.

     “Not yet,” the teacher winced.

     Weeks later, the intercom cackled on, “You got them.”

     “Excuse me?” Mr. K replied.

     “Our balls,” chimed in a perceptive child named Javier.

     A cheer resounded from thirty-four students.

     “The kids got it right,” confirmed the secretary.

     Javier got to go to the office and pick up the balls.  After much pomp and ceremony (a lot of noise) from a grateful class, Mr. K inflated the balls.  Next, he distributed eight of them to other teachers.  Then his class went out to P.E. with a bouncity-bounce, throwity-throw, and playity-play. All appeared joyous in playground land.

     Normally, Mr. K let the kids vote on which games they played. If some of the kids didn’t like any of the choices, they could run laps. Usually three to eight kids, mostly girls, preferred the lap option. They felt laps offered more dignity than three strikes and you’re out or receiving a well-aimed dodge ball to a pretty little coiffured cabeza.

     On this day, three girls opted for laps. They slowly walked the perimeter of the field as the rest of the kids played dodge ball. The teacher played dodge ball with the main group of kids, but kept an eye on the walkers. Eventually he noticed a strange thing. The girls with the coiffured heads actually ran and this they never did. Usually they dawdled, walked, even stopped now and then, but they NEVER ran. The teacher directed all of his attention to this anomaly. He scanned to the rear of the fleet-footed maidens and said a host of forbidden words. This brought the dodge ball game to a halt.

     In hot pursuit behind the distressed damsels, a PITBULL chased them for all it was worth. The terrified girls shrieked and one cherub near Mr. K yelled, “Rabies!”  Of course Javier bellowed this just loud enough for the girls to hear.  And again, strangely enough, they ran even faster.

     Mr. K gave Javier a dirty look it said - Thanks Javier.  Mr. K considered his options. He was the teacher and figured if the dog had to bite anyone it had to be him. Normally, he wasn’t so brave, but it made sense. He could be bitten by the Pitbull now or ripped to shreds by the entire school board at some inquisition later.  Plus, the dog looked pretty small in the distance. So, Mr. K whistled at the running cur. It continued running, only now at the teacher. Javier, the helpful student, assisted again and yelled, “RABIES!” The twenty-nine kids playing dodge ball saw the dog running hell-bent in the direction of the teacher. Javier and crew, perhaps wiser than their teacher, bolted in the opposite direction.  Mr. K found himself halfway between the beast and the kids.

     Hope I don’t get to find out how good our medical insurance is.

    The dog arrived at his ankles and shook his happy body like a contented windshield wiper. Mr. K petted the critter, which caused it to lie down belly up.  The dog barked, indicating he wanted his belly scratched. Mr. K complied and estimated the dog’s age to be about nine months. The kids dispersed and the dodge ball resumed. The girls continued laps and serenity visited playground land for a few more seconds.

     Somebody, (probably Javier) threw a wild ball and it rolled near the dog.  Mr. Pittbull pup bounded up and bit the ball.  A chorus of kids yelled angrily.  The dog ran away with the now deflated ball in its slobbery mouth.  Mr. K hoped this marked the end of the disaster, but somebody, (probably Javier), threw another “wild shot ball.”  The dog dropped the limp ball and zipped to the other ball.  POP went ball number two.  Mr. K gave up, and marched his class inside.  After all, it’s darn hard to play dodge ball without a ball.

    Later that day the intercom clicked on, “Mr. K?”

    “Yes.”

    “Word’s out.  You lost em’ again.”

    “Ha, Ha, Ha” he replied with sarcasm and he shook his head, “Why is June so far away each year?”