Adventures in Teaching: Of Mice and Men

For several years, I taught night school. I would teach my regular classes all day, run home at 3:30 or four, visit with my children, make a quick dinner, say hello to Hubby, then run back up to the high school to teach a night class from 6-8 pm. Luckily, at the time we lived within a few blocks of the school.

One semester I had an entire class of 17-19-year-old boys. These guys weren’t mean, but they were rowdy. I don’t think it would be politically incorrect to call them “rednecks.” In fact, they wore the badge with a certain Southern pride. They were totally raw and uncouth. They loved to pass gas and announce loudly, “Incoming scud!” This was during Desert Storm, so perhaps they were just being patriotic.

We had read Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men, and the boys had actually done a pretty good job with the book. I suppose they could relate somewhat to George and Lenny and the farming aspect of the novel. To serve as a reward and as reinforcement, I decided to let them see the movie one night – the good one - starring Robert Blake and Randy Quaid.

They were watching the film intently, and I was seated at my desk, watching with them. If you’ve seen the movie, you might remember the scene in which Lenny pulls a mouse from his pocket. At that very point in the plot, as if on cue, a black-and-white spotted mouse scampered across the floor of my classroom. My normal composure was shattered. I’m terrified of mice! I jumped up on top of my desk in a flash, like some Olympic hurdler.

Of course, all hell broke lose among my students. They forgot all about George and Lenny as they set about catching the little varmint. The chase continued out of the room and down the hall. The boys made a mass exit in pursuit while I remained on the lofty safe haven of my desktop.

A few minutes later, the boys returned to class. I was afraid that they had killed the hapless mouse.

“You didn’t hurt it, did you?” I asked.

“No’m. It got away. It run under some lockers, so we come back to watch the rest of the movie,” one answered.

Another boy approached my desk and asked, “Mrs. Abee, want me to help you down? It’s safe now. You ain’t askeered of a lil’ ol’ mousie, ere ya?”

“Well, I sure don’t like them much,” I replied.

With that, he brought his hand up and held it out to me. He had the mouse! I shrieked so loudly that the mouse was terrified. It leapt from the boy’s hand and made a dash for the door. Of course, the guys once again were in hot pursuit., but I was determined to end this game.

“Sit down!” I yelled.

They all stopped in their tracks and did as I had commanded. We watched the rest of the movie in peace, but I did set one of the students by the door, on mouse patrol, just in case the rodent was dumb enough to return. Luckily, we didn’t see him again.

The next day at regular school, word had spread about the “mousecapade.” One of the science teachers called to tell me it was one of her mice that had been the culprit, and that she had captured it and placed it back in its cage. Peace reigned once more at Tift County High.