by Dale Wallace

Created on: May 28, 2009

I'm a teacher, and I'm sure every teacher has had a "Trevor" in their class. Trevor is the student who acts like one of the three stooges, talks more than Oprah Winfrey, and will only do their homework on February 29th. Generally, the "Trevors" in a class make a teacher's life a living hell. They cause teachers to grow numerous gray hairs, have many sleepless nights, and to babble incoherently to their families. When students are talked about in the staff room, it seems like the "Trevors" of the school take up most of the conversation. Every teacher wonders what to do about the "Trevors" in the class.

One cold winter day, when it was too snowy for the students to go outside, I drew the dreaded lunch hour hallway supervision. Half way through my patrol, I noticed a kafuffle coming from up the hallway. Surprise, surprise, surprise, (sorry about that Gomer Pyle) there was Trevor laughing harder than at any joke I'd ever told in class and rolling around on the floor like an invisible lumberjack was log rolling him.

With remembrances of every misdemeanor he had ever committed in the forefront of my mind, I made a beeline to Trevor. He had rolled his last roll. I was going to verbally turn him to sawdust.

Just as I was stomping up to Trevor, he unexpectedly flipped towards me, and my hard soled shoe, powered by my hard driving leg, came down squarely on his "privates". My anger turned to chagrin, as Trevor now rolled on the floor, holding his crotch, screaming: "My dick, my dick!"

What could I do? Accident or not, I'm sure my teachers' union would classify this action as unprofessional conduct. Would there be a disciplinary hearing? Would I ever work as a teacher again? I decided I'd had better start by apologizing. So I quickly (and anxiously) blurted out: "Sorry about stepping on your trevor, Dick."

Even though Trevor's agony was great, he still somewhat understood what I said. He stopped his moaning and asked: "What did you say Mr. _______?" At that point I turned and left. I'm sure staying would have only made matters worse.

Later that day, after finally making a proper apology to Trevor, I confessed to his mother. Thankfully, she had a sense of humor. After "the stomp" I noticed that Trevor was somewhat different in my class. He seemed to pay attention better, he actually laughed at my occasional joke, and he was always checking what shoes I was wearing.

Learn more about this author, Dale Wallace.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.