The Egg Incident

The scene was the same; only the accuser was different.

My mom was on the left, my father, fresh from work in his suit, was on the right. Across from the tan formica table sat my seventh-grade home economics teacher, the accuser.

She read the charges: that I, during fifth-period class earlier that week, had taken an egg designated for use in a baking assignment, walked steadily over to the door, opened it, and flung the egg down the hallway.

The teacher. She had a mighty puff of gray hair, a 1930's-circa shirt with a yellow shawl wrapped around her, and a long denim skirt that ended about two inches from her mid-calf white socks, revealing just a tease of furrowed, spider-veined skin. Her eyeglasses sat on the bridge of her nose with the standard-issue old-person eyeglasses chain dangling down and disappearing behind her wrinkled neck.

My parents were not unfamiliar with this request to join one of my teachers after a formal allegation. My hyperactivity combined with my attention deficit disorder combined with my teachers, who were typically post-menopausal women, did not equal gold stars and understanding.

And so my parents sat patiently next to me and listened to the accusations. In the annals of past behavior, throwing an egg down a hallway barely registered on the radar screen of alleged sins. Yet, they recognized my teacher's failing patience with my boundless energy and zest for instigation.

They were not there to defend me. They were there to mediate. They were there to help my teacher by instructing me to cease causing trouble and to do so in front of her, thereby creating a unified front against my tyranny as the class clown.

So far, they had been largely unsuccessful in this endeavor. But bless them for trying, as they did on that particular day when the teacher begged their presence.

As the charges were read, my parents didn't flinch.

Though not legally required -- we were, after all, in an empty flourescent-lit classroom at Forsythe Middle School, not a courtroom -- the teacher offered me the opportunity to rebut the charges.

I contemplated carefully the allegations before crafting a delicate retort.

Me: "I didn't do it. I don't know what you're talking about."
Teacher: "But, Scott, other students saw you do it. They saw you take the egg and throw it down the hallway."
Me: "They must be confused. I didn't do it."

Teacher: "Scott.......they saw you pick up the egg and throw it down the hallway. Many students told me that you were the one who threw the egg. Just admit it."
Me: "I'm sorry. They must be mistaken."

I paused.

Me: "Why would I throw an egg? That doesn't make any sense."
Teacher: "But....but..."

At this point in the engagement my parents intervened, seeing as how they knew I could continue this verbal volley -- quite happily -- with my teacher until it was time for her to retire."

Dad: [stern look] Scott, did you throw the egg?"
Me: "No, dad, I didn't throw the egg. I think the teacher is confused."
Dad: [a mild look of frustration] "Tell the truth."
Me: [aghast] "I am. I didn't throw that egg."

The teacher's attitude was spinning down from confident to doubtful.

My mom was losing patience with the teacher. Not because she didn't think the allegations were real, but because it was clear this trial was going to end in my favor.

She knew me too well.

Mom: "Well, he says he didn't throw it. Did you see him throw it?"
Teacher: "No, but, almost every single student in the class told me he was the one that threw it."
Me: "I di-"
Mom: "Quiet."
Me: "-dn't throw the egg."
Mom: "Well if you didn't see him throw it. And he says he didn't do it. I guess we have to believe him."

The trial ended shortly thereafter, since the teacher could ultimately reach no conclusive verdict.

Afterwards, as my parents and I walked the hallway back to our station wagon, my mother posed a single question to me.

Mom: "Now Scott, you won't get in any trouble, but I really want to know. Did you throw the egg?"

I stopped walking, looked my mom dead in the eye, and with a somewhat puzzled look on my face answered back.

Me: "Who else?"