A Mooving Tale
by Don Drewniak
Fresh out of
college, I taught sixth grade in a small town
located 23 miles west of Boston for two years.
Then came a stint in the U.S. Army subsequent to
being drafted “courtesy” of Lyndon
Baines Johnson during the Vietnam War.
Once my time in the Army was over, I opted to
take a teaching position in a school that was
closer to my home than was the first one.
As was the case with my first teaching position,
there were no special education classes or
tutoring. Classes ran the gamut from high
achievers to those who had learning difficulties.
During my third year of teaching grade six post
Army, I had a student I will call Tommy. I was
told by the principal that he had rarely spoken
dating back to kindergarten and to avoid calling
on him to answer questions.
I occasionally tried to talk to him in private
through mid-November to no avail. The best I
could do was to evoke a smile whenever I told him
a corny joke.
“Tommy, why did the teacher throw her alarm
clock out of her bedroom window?”
Silence.
“Well, Tommy, she wanted to see time fly.”
Smile.
“Tommy, what do cows do for fun on Saturdays?”
Silence.
“Well, Tommy, they go to the moovies.”
Smile.
Then came a mid-November game changer. Tommy
raised his hand. All eyes were focused on him.
I raised my right hand with my palm facing the
class. That was the “You had better not make
a sound” signal.
“Yes, Tommy?”
“Is it true what my father says that hamburg
comes from a cow's behind?”
There were a lot of palms placed over closed
mouths from kids who fought wanting to laugh.
It took me a few seconds before I was able to say,
“That is an excellent question.” I then
did my best to explain the difference between
hamburg and steak.
Then came another surprise as Tommy said, “Thank
you.”
During a math class two days later, Tommy raised
his hand following my asking a question.
“Yes, Tommy?”
Out came the correct answer.
One of the kids clapped. All the rest followed
suit. From then on, he was a regular contributor.
More importantly, he developed friendships with
his classmates and finished the year with B's
across the board.
The school in which I was teaching ran the gamut
from kindergarten through grade eight with four
classes in each grade. I found out the next year
that Tommy had moved with his parents to nearby
Worcester, the second largest city in New England.
I was getting ready to leave at the close of
school in early December when in walked Tommy, a
three or four inch taller Tommy.
Kiddingly, I said, “Do I know you?”
“Aw, Mr.D, you know me.”
“How could I forget you?”
“Yah, I know I was a pain the neck, but I
have to tell you that thanks to you I made the
honor roll first semester and the basketball team
at Chandler Junior High.”
He went on fill me in on the details and finished
up by asking, “What do cows read in the
morning?”
I shook my head back and forth a few times and
squeezed my chin before saying, “I give up.”
“The moospaper.”
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