Bullies Don't Have Armpits (excerpt)

From Fictionremix

Current revision as of 18:14, 24 August 2006

=== === We decided that since Simon’s Sunday School teacher was more concerned about children being silent than any actual instruction taking place, we would press my Sunday School teacher, Brother Winston, for the desired information. Simon and I were in separate classes in our group activities, but we could sit such so that we were on the same row; only the aisle kept us from being right next to each other.

Teachers hated it when you talked during the scripture or prayer, but we found that during the songs we could carry on entire conversations. If you were looking over at your brother, and your mouth was moving, the teachers either mistakenly assumed you were singing, or knew you were talking but cut their losses and figured in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t bothering anybody else. We sang close to 15 songs during the group activities so we had ample opportunity to plan my questioning of Brother Winston. Over the toneless mumbles and grunts that was the opening song, Simon began to prep me.

“So,” he said, over the tune of God Bless America, “What are you going to ask your teacher?”

I thought for a minute while watching the kids singing. It was kind of funny how you had a very wide spectrum of children. Some of them looked like they truly were trying to add their voice to some angelic chorus. Others sang almost as if they were on autopilot. Others looked they weren’t even aware that there was a song going on. One boy sat there with his fingers in his ears staring at a point somewhere off into space.

=== === “Well,” I finally said, “we want to play a practical joke on the Hagbarts, so I need to find out if that’s a sin that would send us to hell.”

I froze. I had unfortunately said “hell” at the end of a verse, in a moment of silence. There were murmers around the classroom. A few girls and several boys turned around with their hands over their mouth, as if to say, "You just said a naughty!" The chorister slapped her baton on the metal stand, pointed it at me, and gave me a cold look. This method was frequently used to get a child's attention and reprimand them without having to stop the singing.

Simon waited until the kids started mumbling the second verse. “Right. I don’t think playing a practical joke is such a bad thing, but there is that whole, ‘turn the other cheek thing’. Since this is a scheme to get back at something they did to us first,” Simon paused. The children weren’t sure of the second verse and the sound level had dropped considerably. Simon waited until the chorus when the noise picked up again and continued. “Since this is a scheme to get back at something they did to us first, we need to find out if that makes it a sin.”

I nodded. It seemed pretty straight forward. I glanced over at Brother Winston. I counted myself lucky that I was in his class. He had to be the oldest man in the ward. If anybody knew the ins and outs of the scriptures, it had to be him. Not only had he been on the planet for a long, long time, but simply the fact that the bishop would call him to be a Primary teacher proved that he had to be some kind of amazing scholar of the gospel. They wouldn’t entrust a class of children to just anybody!

=== === Simon and I had to stop the conversation during the prayer, the scripture, and the talk. When the moaning and mumbling started again, Simon picked up where he left off. He apparently had plenty of time to form more questions during the primary proceedings.

“After all,” he said, over the tune of Give Said the Little Stream, “think of what that guy Sampson did. He killed 2000 philistines with the jawbone of an ass.”

He stopped abruptly. He had made the same mistake I had. Right between ‘give oh give, give oh give’, and ‘give said the little stream’, there is a nice spot where all of the mumbling kids take a big breath. Simon had voiced the last word right during this silent pause.

Where my faux pax caused a few backward glances, Simon's expression caused the room to erupt. There were gasps from several of the kids who found the word shocking, and there were howls of laughter from other kids who found the word just plain funny. I've learned that all humor is contexual, and this particular word, said during singing time at primary, is apparently hillarious. Sister Jacobs, the choruster, sputtered a few words, then banged her baton against the metal stand until I was sure it would break. Order was restored only after Sister Jacobs stepped forward and weilded the plastic baton like a medeival sword. Through it all, the pianist kept playing, and the children eventually settled down and picked up the tune.

Simon and I sang piously for five songs in hopes of getting back into good graces with the primary presidency. They were all very nice and had been very kind to me. But sometimes I noticed a wild look in their eyes. It made me think that if one of them suddenly started throwing centerpieces around, or climbing up and jumping up and down on the piano, pulling at their hair, it wouldn't surprise me. It seemed like they lived right on the edge of the very thin line between sanity and crazyness.

=== === Finally, at the latter part of the song Popcorn Popping, a song the children all knew and were singing loudly, Simon leaned over again.

“So find out why it seems the prophets can do things like kill bad guys, cut off arms, and stone people, and we can’t even play a practical joke on a bunch of kids who certainly would have been philistines, if they lived a thousand years ago.” “I will,” I said, smiling. The fact that Simon was asking me questions made me good. I felt like I was on some kind of secret mission to uncover hidden information.

Simon looked like he wanted to say more, but the last song was one that my brothers and I always sang. When we sang, it was either because we had to, because somebody was forcing us, or because we wanted to. Usually when we wanted to it meant we had changed the words of the song. For this particular song, Two Little Hands, not only had we changed the words but we had made up actions to go along with it. Simon and I both sang loudly, and if I turned the right way, I could hear Peter belting out our changes from the front of the room.

=== === “I have 5 little fingers on one of my hands,” we both held up our right hand.

“I have 6 on the other I don’t understand,” we both held up our left hand, but used our right hand to put an extra finger coming out of our left palm.

“During all the long hours till daylight is through,” we put both arms up to make a circle, signifying the sun, which was the same action the other kids were doing.

“I have one little finger with nothing to do!” we put the ‘extra’ finger up our nose and wiggled it.