Flossing and Memories

While I was brushing my teeth this morning, I had a sudden flash of a memory back to 6th grade. I had a teacher I really couldn't tolerate -- I'm not sure why, could've been just about anything is the days of hard-ons and hormones. She used to be the dental hygenist for the school, but ended up teaching a history class in 4th period. But it wasn't her schizophrenic career that bothered me.

I just thought she was a terrible teacher. After I checked my courage and swallowed my big league chew, I slipped a note into the quizzes we passed up that told her to go back to dentistry and never to teach again. As I spit out my fluoride this morning I felt like such a jerk.

So I started off my whole day on this sour note -- only now, like 10 years later, I empathize with the woman's struggle to further her career past the single day she would come into class and instruct us on the proper method to brush. A person can only tell kids to sweep plaque off in a circular motion for so long before she starts letting the laughing gas leak into the office.

Ah, screw it -- I was a nice kid -- I'm sure she deserved the note. I'm going to go pour cane sugar directly onto my molars until I feel better.