A mouse scurried along the wall of my classroom this morning. One of the guys alerted me.
"There's a mouse in this room?" Just making sure. "I don't want to see it," I said, and concentrated on the computer at the front of the room.
When I moved center stage and glanced to my left, I saw its sneaky, tiny brown body scuttling across the floor. "Geez, that's a first."
Minutes later, it crossed the threshold into the hallway, where we could hear girls screaming as it passed by.
When I was giving an important speech in my Home Management class at the University of Utah--yes, I took Home Management and got an A--a bumblebee buzzed around my face. Girls in the class squeaked with horror. I ignored the bee and them and continued. My professor commented on my poise when I was finished.
But at BYU when one of the elementary ed. majors wanted to bring snakes to class for a demonstration, I said, "Absolutely not."
Every class period, she hounded me: "I'll bring them in a sack. They're harmless."
Finally, I relented. "Okay," I said, "but if you tease me, or put a snake on the floor or get within ten feet of me with a snake, I will fail you. FAIL YOU. F."
She did her snake report with several different snakes, while I sat at the back of the class watching the big one wrap itself around her neck and shoulders. Her friend allowed the smaller snakes to slide up and down her arms. I feigned an interested look. Yuk.
Max and Mira have a snake upstairs in their house. I have told them in no uncertain terms that I never want to lay eyes on that snake.
Although, that snake does eat a live mouse once a week.