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There are teachers for which I have a special place in my heart. Such teachers foster open minds and an eagerness to return to class each day. Of that special set of exemplary teachers, Mrs. Kearney is not among them. If there were a body part reserved for teachers of that caliber, it would not be polite to mention it. But why is the bright-eyed smiling teacher deserving of such a distinction? Three words--Wheel of Fun.

I first encountered the wicked witch of the English department in the eighth grade, my last year at Placerita Junior High School. Her hair was medium-length gray, streaked with black. (She has since denied it ever being that color.) She stood thin and tall in front of the classroom, dictating our writing and reading assignments.

Unfortunately, in addition to teaching English, she also taught the "Peace" class, whatever hippie nonsense that might be. It is unfortunate only in that she tended to mix up her writing lessons to include themes that broached the topics of tolerance, racism, and so forth. However, although the writing topics veered from the mainstream, I did not really have a problem with the subjects. I dutifully wrote "Tolerance on Harley" or whatever the alliterative title was that escapes me.

When she had the class write children's stories for the pre-school that her daughter just so happened to attend, I started to wonder about Mrs. Kearney's motives. We had to write a "real story" about some fairy tale, giving it a new twist. I wrote about a new version of the Hansel and Gretal story. Then I rewrote it when Mrs. Kearney didn't like that the witch died at the end. Well excuse me, Madame Grimm's fairy tales are too gory! The revised ending had her getting stuck in a barrel of molasses. Figuring that it was a children's book, I spent time writing it in crayon (probably not the brightest idea). Then we took a field trip down to the school to present the books to the children that we'd been designated to. (ha dangling participle and loving it) The kid I was assigned to asked me why my book didn't look like everyone else's. Yeah, whatever, eat your cookie.

One highlight of the class was when we watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. After the film ended I recited the Wonka boat scene to Mrs. Kearney after class:

"Not a speck of light is showing, So the danger must be growing. Are the fires of Hell a glowing? Is the grisly Reaper mowing? Yes! The danger must be growing So the rowers keep on rowing And they're certainly not showing Any signs that they are slowing."

And, it totally freaked her out. Ha ha. Bonus!

However, the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back was undoubtedly the infamous "Wheel of Fun". Mrs. Kearney had made the wheel from a large party platter to which she'd glued numbers onto, then hung the wheel on a post. Students spun the wheel and went up to the prize board and looked under the number for what they won. Some prizes were good, other were not. One day, I went up there, spun, and looked at my prize: "Do pushups while singing mary had a little lamb."...

I shit you not. So, I guess after having to do that in front of 30 of my ever understanding hormone-driven peers, I developed a bit of a grudge. Of course, the saga didn't end there.

With such issues in class, my motivation wasn't the highest. I received a C in her class. When it came time for me to finally start high school, she argued to my parents against letting me take the honors English class. However, my parents stood up for me and saw to it that I could take the class. I thought the war was over, the last battle against her fought. That was what I thought until I saw my schedule of classes for my first semester of high school.

To my utter horror, I'd been assigned to Mrs. Kearney for Honors English. No way! Not possible! Sure enough, Mrs. Kearney had transferred to Hart High School. Not only was she truly there, but she had transformed. Gone was the gray hair with black streaks. She sported a new Mary Tyler Moore style brown bun atop her noggin.

Oddly enough, both teachers I had trouble with in junior high both transferred to Hart High. Anyhow, I went and stood in a long line of students waiting for the counselors to get my class changed to Mrs. Lund. Almost all of my siblings had taken Mrs. Lund for English class. In fact, being the sixth and final Puckett, it was hard to find a teacher who did not know several of my siblings. With Cindy only two years advanced, a stellar Puckett student was fresh in their memory.

Fortunately, I was able to switch classes over to Mrs. Lund's english class, carrying on a tradition of Puckett's and Lund's. Narrowly averting a motivation-killing class with Mrs. Kearney, I breathed a sigh of relief and went on to earn good grades in Mrs. Lund's class. That is, until the next semester class registration came along and I found myself once again enrolled in Mrs. Kearney's class! In fact, every semester I was assigned to Mrs. Kearney's class and had to stand in line to get out of it! The curse of the Wheel of Fun had followed me.

Enduring a sisyphean return to change classes at each semester's start, I counted my blessings that I could at least escape her class.

Little did I know, but she knew of my efforts. She'd asked my friend Josh Hiscock (yes that's his real name) what I was doing in line for the counselors office. Lacking utter tact, he told her I was trying to get out of her class. Apparently her face fell, and she said she'd make sure it was possible. Okay, so I feel a bit guilty about that. I didn't wish her harm, or ill. I just didn't want to be anywhere near her when she was teaching!

Just prior to graduation, she chatted with me a bit. She said I'd probably look back when I'm well off and still remember her. Well that's true, but not fondly. Even with the years that have passed, I still don't know what she was thinking when she wrote "Do pushups while singing Mary Had a Little Lamb."