Study? In Study Hall??


Throughout the years, I have found that when I get bored, I tend to get into trouble.  If I don’t get into trouble, I cause trouble.  And, trouble comes around every time I get bored.  I don’t know if I’m the only one or not, but I cannot stand to be bored.  The one thing I found boring and always hated in school was study hall.  To me, study hall was the biggest waste of time in the world, and I just didn’t know why I had to attend study hall.  I certainty didn’t study, and there was nothing to do for an entire forty-five minutes.  I would try to sleep, but I could never get my head comfortable on those desks.  However, I did have a good friend, Janice, that could sleep anywhere and any time.

One day, while in study hall, Janice had just finished reading the “High School Chatter”, the weekly school newspaper, and she decided to take a nap.  So she laid her head down on the desk and twenty minutes later the bell rang signaling that study hall was over.  I tapped Janice on the shoulder and woke her up.   I grabbed my books and stood there waiting for Janice.  She raised her head, yawned and stretched, then gathered her books.  As we were walking down the hall, I noticed people looking at her.  Now, she was pretty, very popular and a lot of people knew her, but there was something different going on that day and these looks that Janice was getting were very unusual.  I was puzzled and curious so I looked at Janice and I will be damned if she didn’t have that “chatter” tattooed all over her face and forehead.  Apparently, when she had taken a nap, she had laid her face on the newspaper and the ink had rubbed off on it.  You could even make out some of the words if you read them backwards.  About that time one of our other friends walked up; looked at Janice and said, “What the hell?  Hot off the press, are ya?”  Janice had no idea what that meant, but I did and I about died laughing.  Pretty soon we had a small crowd gathered in the middle of the hall.  Concerned that something serious was going to happen, Mrs. Becker came over to us.  Now, I don’t know if you have ever had “the teacher from hell” or not, but Mrs. Becker was our “teacher from hell”.  As soon as she walked up the crowd disbursed and only ones remaining were Janice and I.  Mrs. Becker asked what all the commotion was about and I pointed at Janice and grinned and said, “Oh, nothing really.  We were just talking about the High School Chatter’s headline.”  I couldn’t help from laughing and believe me, this was the one and only time I ever saw Mrs. Becker crack a smile.  She looked at Janice; shook her head and said, “Go wash that off your face.”, then she turned to me and said, “You, go to class.”  We never did let Janice live that down, and from that day on, she became known as “Chatter Head”.

Anyway, I hated study hall.  I would draw, read, and pass notes or anything I could think of to occupy my time.   And while I’m thinking about it, there was one other time in study hall that I will never forget.  That semester, I had study hall in the cafeteria with Mrs. Becker.  We didn’t have assigned seats, so we could sit where ever we chose.  I usually sat with a group of my friends, but that day I was late getting to study hall, so I just grabbed the first available seat.  My buddies were all the way across the room, and there I was, twenty feet from Mrs. Becker and I was sitting at a table with a girl I barely knew.  This girl was very shy and quiet, so I knew she probably wouldn’t talk or pass notes.  I had just finished reading “Sybil” so I didn’t have a book to read, and I wasn’t in the mood to draw, so I just sat there.

After about five minutes, I was getting pretty damned bored, so I decided that if I was going to survive this bitter silence then I might as well study.  As I reached for my backpack to get my Political Science book, something caught my eye.  It was Super Glue.  The girl I was sharing a table with had been digging in her purse and she had forgotten to put the Super Glue back in it.  I pointed at the cylinder of glue and looked at the girl and said, “Can I see that?”  She handed it to me, and I looked at it and read the directions and then looked at her and said, “Ya know, this stuff doesn’t work, don’t ya?”  She didn’t say a word, she just nodded a very confident nod that assured me that the Super Glue does work.  I said, “I’ll prove it.”  So I tore up a piece of paper and dabbed a little bit of Super Glue on one piece of paper then placed another piece of paper on top.  Being careful not to get the glue on my fingers, I carefully pressed the two pieces of paper together.  I blew on the paper and counted to ten.  Then, I pulled the two pieces of paper apart.  I said, “See.”  Not sure that I had convinced her, I performed another demonstration.  I  pulled out two pencils.  I dabbed a bit of on Super Glue on one of the pencils and then pressed the two pencils together.  I blew on the pencils and this time I counted to thirty.  I pulled the pencils apart without too much of an effort. I said, “See. This stuff doesn’t work.”  By this time the girl was getting a bit aggravated with me, so he shushed me to shut me up.

I was just joking when I told her it wouldn’t work because I honestly thought Super Glue was the best glue around.  But now, I had my doubts and was beginning to wonder if it would work on anything.  There was only one last thing I could think of to try to prove if it worked or if it did not work.  I looked at the girl and I said, “Let me see your hand.”  The girl gave me her hand without even thinking about it, and before she knew it, I had placed a dab of super glue on her index finger and was holding her thumb and index finger together with all my might.  I blew and I held them together for thirty seconds.  When I let go, I said, “Now pull them apart.”  I thought she was joking when she said she couldn’t pull them apart, so I tried.  And I will be damned, they were definitely stuck together.  All I could say was, “Shit, that stuff does work!”  While she was shushing me, she was desperately trying to pull her fingers apart and I was sitting there amazed by how quickly that Super Glue worked on skin.

That day, we sat in study hall for damn near twenty minutes trying to pull her fingers apart.  This girl was mad as hell at me and I felt pretty bad about the situation.  Did I tell you she was right-handed?  Well, she was.  It probably wouldn’t have been so bad had I glued her left hand’s fingers together, but no, I had to glue her right hand’s fingers.  In ten minutes, the girl had to take an all essay history test.  I was feeling really bad about what I had done, and I kept telling her over and over how sorry I was.  Finally the bell rang and she took off to the restroom.  I followed her and when I got in there, one of her friends was standing there asking her what had happened.  When she told her, her friend looked at me and said, “Are you crazy?  Why did you do that?”  I quickly explained that I had no idea Super Glue was that strong and I never, ever thought this would happen.  I kept saying, “I am so sorry; I swear I didn’t know!”

With the aide of soap and water and her friend, the girl finally got her thumb and finger apart.  However, when she pulled them apart, a lot of the skin came off too.  She didn’t bleed and she never made a sound, but by the expression on her face, I knew that it hurt like hell.  I never did find out how she did on her test because she never spoke to me again, ever.  Well, all I can say is she should have known better than to give me that Super Glue in the first place.  And, she should have never, ever given me her hand.

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