|I apologize for the dark, grainy |
yearbook photo of Mrs. P.
I explained all of this already (sorry to repeat), but I admitted to feeling a bit out of order. That term caused a high school flashback circa 1989.
My high school math teacher used to have a place on the board labeled 'O.O.O.' Translation: out of order. If you were chatty, or not following along, Mrs. P stopped teaching and said, 'Ernie Shenanigan, you are out of order, please go write your initials under the O.O.O. on the board.'
|One of my classmates appeared |
in the yearbook drawing a geographic
shape in the board.
|Imagine a class |
full of girls swinging
our arms to match the lines
of the above hyperbola.
My high school was the all-girls Catholic school variety. I, for one, felt more comfortable in a class where there were no intimidating boys. I was able to come out of my shell a bit. Perhaps a bit too much, because that landed me in O.O.O. on the regular.
On the first day of class, Mrs. P asked us what we preferred to be called. For example, if your legal name was Josephine, but you preferred to be called 'Jo' give a holler during attendance. My friend, Sara, randomly requested that she be called 'Sabrina'. From then on, Mrs. P called her Sabrina every day of class.
In order to explain a hyperbola, Mrs. P instructed us to stand up and sway our arms in the shape of the hyperbola. I admit that I have never needed the hyperbola formula since that day, but I can still demonstrate one with my limbs, if that is ever required of me.
Mrs. P died too young (maybe late 50's) of an asthma attack not long after I graduated from college. Now when I create a post filled with issues that are causing me to feel O.O.O., and I label it as such you will understand the terminology, and that I am honoring one of the greats.
Do you have a favorite teacher memory you can share?