The straw that broke the camel’s back

Have you ever been on a fool’s errand while searching for an essential item that mysteriously disappeared without a trace?

Throw a couple of conniving interlopers into the mix and you have the makings of a genuine conspiracy.

A very frustrating predicament indeed!

That same exact scenario unfolded before my very eyes one blustery afternoon in February during my senior year of high school when I was unable to find my winter coat near the conclusion of study hall; but even with the keenest of sleuthing capabilities, Sherlock Holmes himself would have been unable to discover its whereabouts.

However, my arch nemesis and his constant companion knew exactly where the outdoor garment was located; but they refused to let me in on their little secret.

Did I fail to mention that the large classroom was filled with my fellow peers, some of whom I considered to be very good friends; yet none of them bothered to lift a finger to help me out of this ridiculous quandary.

Absolutely shameful!

Not long after pulling a textbook from my backpack to commence with a little homework once the bell sounded, Mr. Ralph DiCerbo, our American Government teacher, popped his head into the quiet chamber to ask if I’d like to come down to his room at the opposite end of the hallway and grade a few test papers for him.

With the dream of joining the ranks of the time-honored profession in a few short years, I jumped at the opportunity to help out one of my favorite teachers by gaining a little experience as an honest to goodness educator.

Given the fact that I would only be a stone’s throw away, Mr. Phil Wimer, part of our senior high school Language Arts staff charged with monitoring the casual study session, informed me that I could collect my personal belongings at the end of the period.

Thinking nothing of it, I accompanied the popular social studies instructor back to his own little piece of real estate on the third floor to carry out one of the most important tasks performed by any teacher – to assess the progress of their young charges.

For the next forty-five minutes, I managed to sift through an entire stack of chapter examinations from one of the Italian-immigrant’s eleventh grade U.S. History classes with time to spare at the end of the instructional block.

“I’m amazed that you completed the whole batch,” reasoned Mr. DiCerbo with a pleased tone as he placed the scored paperwork underneath his grade book. “Since there are thirty students in that class, I was only expecting you to finish about half of the assessments; but it appears that you’re a speed demon with a red pen in your hand.”

“It was a pleasure,” I replied with a smile while laying a pile of paperclips on the executive desk at the front of the brightly lit room. “My task was a piece of cake once I discovered the quickest way to grade the test papers; so, if you ever need my assistance again, you know where to find me.”

“You’re going to make a fine teacher one day,” proclaimed the celebrated educator with kind eyes after reclining comfortably in his swivel-back chair on wheels. “But it’s a shame you won’t be attending Geneva College in the fall; because I would definitely put in a request to become your supervising teacher when you begin your student teaching.”

While scurrying down the corridor back to study hall, I was beaming from ear to ear thinking about my mentor’s glowing comments upon exiting his classroom.

Nevertheless, that Cheshire cat grin turned upside down when I re-entered the classroom swirling with whispers and discovered the beige down-filled jacket with a fur collar which had been hanging on the back of my desk chair had vanished into thin air.

Considering the Bobbsey twins – Bobby Ewing and Bobby Parks – could barely contain their laughter as I frantically began searching several empty desks for my outerwear, it wasn’t too difficult to figure out that they were the culprits responsible for the repugnant shenanigan.

I was ready to wipe that smug look off both their faces!

Since my parents found it difficult to make ends meet after leaving our church the previous spring, they were dependent upon a couple bags of groceries from an area food pantry every month just to make sure we had enough food on the table; so, I knew they couldn’t afford to go out and buy me a new outer garment.

In addition, I was concerned as to whether or not I had the mental fortitude to walk the eight blocks to our second-floor apartment in forty-degree weather without a coat.

I had a complete meltdown!

“Where’s my coat,” I demanded with nostrils flaring while lifting up the front of the desk where Ewing sat. “With the way you two juvenile delinquents are acting, I know that youns hid my coat somewhere in this room; so, it would be in your best interest to cough it up before someone gets hurt.”

“So, you think you’re a tough guy,” interjected the cocky football player with total disdain splashed across his face after leaping from the bobbling seat. “If I had to make a wager as to who’s going to get hurt, I’d be willing to bet that you’ll be on the losing end; because all I have to do is blow in your direction and you’ll crumple to the ground like a toothpick.”

The short stocky linebacker held me back as I attempted to physically attack the menacing punk!

When Mr. Wimer stepped back into the classroom as the bell rang out, he sent all three of us along with a reliable character witness to the principal’s office.