Make 'Em Laugh

The year was 1994. I sat with my class in the school library while our librarian Mrs. Green explained its function - how to check out a book. Half my peers rested their heads on their hands and listened to our instructor drone on, a scene reminiscent in Charlie Brown.

I was drawing on the library table when I knocked a pencil to the ground. I took two dramatic steps toward it, picked it up, held it close in front of my eyes so that they crossed, and smiled triumphantly. A couple students giggled, which was when I realized Mrs. Green was speaking mostly to the other side of the circle. It was with this understanding (of something called a 'loophole') I discovered that not following Mrs. Green's every order was sort of fun. And it was even better to make my classmates laugh. 

Noticing I had gotten up, Mrs. Green turned and told me to sit. I did. But when she turned again to continue her lesson, I stood again and waved my hands in the air and performed as I'd seen clowns do. I waved my hands in circles then stood and pretended to fall. 

By now I had the whole class's attention. They laughed through Mrs. Green's lesson, which encouraged me to continue my antics. 

"Sit down," she said, "or you will have to see the principal." 

A bit phased, I sat, put my head down on my desk, and listened for a while when a thought occurred. I had one more trick. They had to see it.

Mrs. Green's back was again turned. I stood, walked behind her, then pretended to be punched and fell down into perfectly choreographed splits.

The class laughed and Mrs. Green kept her promise, pointing toward the door and commanding that I leave for the principal's office. 

Being quite a shy kid, however, I felt not punished but proud of myself for making people laugh. The only thing better was to hear my principal say, "I heard you caused quite a scene in the library today."

"Yes, sir," I smiled. "I did."