Miss Evelyn Martin

Ah, Miss Evelyn Martin. Such a buxom lass for a second grader to fall for. Miss Martin was a soprano in the Metropolitan Opera before she decided to return home to Greenwood and help the little ones through a tough year. The only scene I vividly remember from the second grade classroom was when I was given an "F" for a drawing. Even at that young and tender age I demanded to know just how any critic could give a budding artist a thumbs down for his best effort. Alas my love for her was blunted by her effete criticism.

Then there was the lunchroom. At Magnolia, it was located in a little white house surrounded by the playground. One could smell it as it was approached. The food was adequate, but the menu deserved some attention. Item: I do not and I will not ever, ever consume spinach in any way. The same goes for liver. How COULD you serve spinach and liver to second graders and expect them to eat it. Alas, we were required to clean our respective plates before joining our classmates at recess. Miss Martin would take charge of a recalcitrant young scholar whose plate was marked by the presence of some offending victual and attempt to force said swill into the scholar's mouth. Now, I had a couple of tricks up my sleeve - or at least in my cuff. We wore blue jeans every day and our mothers would purchase said jeans a little long to allow for growth. The solution to the extra length was a turned up cuff from one to five inches depending on the time of year and the growth state of the kid.

I have always been the type of person who can make use of almost anything to solve a problem. So, those cuffs soon began to hold the liver and spinach for eventual egress to the playground and covert dumping of the offending crud to be scuffed into the sand. She caught me. I don't know how. It may have been the gravy dripping through the fabric - or the unlikely pouch formed by the swill. It too may have been the god-awful smell of my trousers in the classroom after lunch. Anyhow, she decided to sit with me and force me to eat everything. I'm sure she told the lunchroom to prepare unappetizing lunches every day for a week. Caught, scruffed and forced to eat, I relented. She shoved the fork full of spinach into my mouth and I decorated her cleavage with all the milk, roast beef, carrots and one forkful of spinach contained in me. I never had to eat spinach again.