Not Too Impressive

The High School Principal, who is also a nationally-renowned Math teacher, spent an hour a day last week with the 8th Graders, preparing them for their move to the high school. He taught them how to use their Texas Instrument Calculators as well as other things so they can hit the ground running in September.

We dearly love this man, Mr. Funsch, but he CAN be a little intimidating. First of all, he's a high school teacher. Second, he's the Principal. Third, he is tall, thin, and imposing. And fourth, he smiles sparingly and appears stern most of the time, despite his incredible sense of humor, which Deanna has yet to experience.

Deanna has been with me when I've joked and bantered with him and she's well aware of the esteem with which Don and I both hold him. She felt it was very important to also show respect and, more than anything, she wanted his first impression of her in school to be very positive. Truthfully, she wanted him to think she was smart, self-assured, and attentive.

She sat very straight while with him. She told me she hung on his every word, never taking her eyes off him, pen poised above paper to jot down any important tidbit he might bestow on them. She was focused, concentrating, and trying very hard to seem intelligent and thoughtful.

"So," Mr. Funsch said the first day, "let's count off by fours. Faith, you're #1."

When Faith stared blankly at him, he said, "Just say 'One', Faith," which she did. Then he pointed at Deanna.

She smiled triumphantly. "FIVE!"

When he didn't move on, her brow furrowed. Then she noticed he was holding up two fingers for her to see.

"Four?" she asked. When I talked with him about this incident later, he said she had also suggested seven as the answer to counting off by fours.

Gently, ever so patiently, he said, "Two."

Deanna hung her head in shame. So much for impressing the High School Principal. Now he thinks she can't count to two.

Obviously, Deanna thought counting off by fours, if Faith started with 1, meant 5, 9, 13 . . . Mr. Funsch, however, meant 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4 . . .

By the time Deanna got home from school, she could clearly see the humor in this whole situation and laughed hysterically when telling me the story. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to joke with Mr. Funsch about my first child to encounter him as a teacher, so I gave him a call.

"I heard you had a little problem with the eighth grade today," I said. He, obviously, was still wearing his teacher/principal hat, and didn't get that I was kidding.

"No," he countered. "What do you mean?"

"They had difficulty counting by fours," I explained further.

Finally, he realized what I was talking about.

I continued. "So, you thought you'd be teaching them about their T.I.'s, but I bet you never thought you'd have to teach them to count to 2 first."

"It's not going to be a problem," he said. "I'm not the slightest bit worried."

Then he paused.

"I have them divided into groups now. No need for them to count anymore!"