Hurricane Bears Down On Coast

You may not have ever heard the story of the day--many many years ago... pre-Katrina--the title for this post was the big headline in the KC Star.

So I'll share:

I saw the paper, laughed, and then went from classroom to classroom, holding up the paper and saying, "There are Hurricane Bears down on the coast!" I would then allow enough time for confusion/thought/whatever, then ask, "What's a Hurricane Bear?"

Stupid joke, but I remember it fondly.

Anyway, I was put in mind of that day on this day.

I didn't notice the stuffed bears strewn around the room at the Mo. Math Academy when I got there this morning, but I should have. I did notice there was a Winnie on my table, and the stupidest part of my brain thought one of the ladies who sit at my table must have brought it.

Seriously, I thought this. Or the stupidest part of my brain did. The rest of my brain would like to point out that it was too busy thinking about getting to my seat, setting my stuff down, and turning over to the woman running MMA the wad of cash I'd found on the floor on my way in. Much too busy thinking about all that ("What should I say when I hand it to her? Make a reference to tipping her? I wonder how much money is in here, anyway... I know I saw a ten and a five. What did that stupid part of my brain just think about that Pooh doll? Never mind, maybe I should wait until nobody is around, in case someone is all dishonesty and stuff..." and so on...) to even make a "Oh-how-could-you-be-so-stupid" face at the stupidest part of my brain.

At any rate, I got my stuff settled, walked over to Chris, handed her the cash and made a stupid tip joke immediately followed by the actual facts and my theory as to who it might belong to, then returned to my seat, forgetting all about the bear--and still not noticing there was at least one other bear on every other table, and two kissing bears hanging from the overhead projector.

About ten minutes later, there was some planning on the part of the facilitators (or whatever the actual title is for the people running this thing) that registered in the extreme back of my brain as "they're getting ready for the first warm-up or team-builder, or whatever", and then Chris started talking to us about the plan for the day.

I had enough time to realize she was the only facilitator (or whatever) in the room, then turn my attention back to her, when all the facilitators (or whatevers) came running in from both main entrances, yelling "Let's go! Let's go!" and so on, as they grabbed the bears from the tables and the overhead projectors. They all ran back out with the stuffed bears, the last one saying, "We got eight!"

Chris then says, "Good, that puts us at negative eight bear attacks already this morning."

I laughed very loudly, and realized I was the only one in the room doing so, which made me realize nobody else had any idea what I was laughing about because they hadn't read my "Reflection" sheet from the end of the day yesterday.

All the facilitators (whatevers) had, but Chris was the only one in the room. She immediately knew I had to have been the one to write the comment that helped put this strange event into the planning stages, and she told the others as they came back in.

They all threw stuffed bears at me, while I was still laughing too loud to think straight.

Now, of course, you're sitting there all confused like the other 16 or so participants (non-whatevers) who were in the room, because I'm telling this story in what I think is the right order (but it's what I'm sure some might argue is in the wrong order... but I digress). I then told them the rest of the story... or the first part of the story.

So here's the rest of the story... or the first part of the story--that needed to be last so you'd feel like I (and everyone else) felt when several people came running into the room to remove teddy bears (and, I suppose, so you'd feel what everyone else felt when I started laughing like something very funny just happened, when--at best--it was just all very surreal):

At the end of each day, we've been filling out a "reflection sheet" (but not called that... I think the terminology has changed) that gives space for what stands out from the day (or what we thought was most helpful... or something like that), and space for what we think should be changed.

Well, math-teaching geek that I am, the first full day I had no idea of a suggestion of what to change. I loved it all. Well, what I didn't love didn't need to be changed, anyway.

Yesterday, I had nothing to put in that section either, but I didn't want to put, "I have nothing to write here," again. So I wrote,

"Fewer bear attacks. I realize we are currently at 0 bear attacks, but I'd feel better if that number was lowered to -1 or -2."

I liked it because it was random, nonsensical, and mathematical all at once. I hoped someone might get a chuckle out of it, and at most maybe they'd ask us who wrote it.

So for that group to come up with this goofy plan to sorta "get back" at me, it was like Christmas in July, baby!

I was laughing for a good ten minutes after it was all said and done. I actually am laughing almost as much now as I think about it.

I like people who make me laugh. They're funny!