My grumpy old buddy Eb Griper and I were chewing the fat in the post office parking lot when a big yellow school bus drove by.

“Sure glad I’m not on that thing,” I said over the rumble.

“You’re not alone,” Eb said. “I hated school.”

“They had schools when you were a kid?” I teased.

“Don’t be a smart aleck,” Eb snapped. “Of course they did. I went to Superior Township No. 3. A one-room school house out in the country — two outhouses, a swing set and a merry-go-round. And I learned more than kids do today with all their voodoo games.”

“I think you mean ‘video’ games,” I corrected.

“Voodoo games … video games. They’re all the same to me,” Eb argued.

“So what did you dislike so much about school?”

“The teacher, the books, the homework, most of the other students …”

“I get the picture,” I interrupted. “So as you look back on those years, what was it that you were hoping to get out of school?”

“Me!”

I knew it was futile to argue so I tried another route. “What was your favorite class in school?”

“Recess.”

“No, I mean your favorite course.”

“Geography.”

“Geography is cool,” I said. “Why did you like geography?”

“Because I learned about more places to tell people where to go when they bugged me.”

“You what?”

“Yeah,” Eb explained, “you couldn’t tell someone to go to h-e-double-toothpicks back then, so I would tell them to go to Helena.” Eb flashed a stupid-looking grin. “You couldn’t get slapped for telling someone to go to Montana!”

“I have a hunch you got in trouble frequently during your school years.”

Eb grinned again. “Face slapped, butt spanked, mouth taped, dunce cap in corner … you name it.”

“What did your parents say?”

“I was the youngest and my older brothers had already worn them out,” Eb said. “My mother was just glad I wasn’t home all day.”

“What was the worst thing that happened to you during your school years?”

Eb scratched the six-day stubble on his chin. “I suppose,” he said, “that was the time I fell into the outhouse.”

“Oh my gosh,” I exclaimed. “How did that happen?”

“Well, I was a skinny little guy and one day in first grade I just accidentally folded up like a jackknife and fell through the hole.”

“What did you do?”

“I screamed.”

“Who pulled you out?”

“Billy Egstad. He was an eighth-grader. He laughed so hard he lost his grip three times before he finally pulled me out of there.”

“What did your teacher do?”

“She threw up.”

“That’s awful,” I said. “So did you learn anything from that experience?”

“Yep!” Eb said with a smirk. “Don’t use the big-kids’ hole in the outhouse until you’re a big kid.”

“Anything else exciting happen to you?”

“Well, I was punished for kissing a girl in sixth grade.”

“You did? What happened?”

“I grabbed Betty Jo Allison during noon recess and planted a big ol’ kiss right on her lips. Then someone complained to the teacher and I got in trouble.”

“Who complained?”

“Betty Jo.”

“What was your punishment?”

“Three swats with the paddle.”

“I hope you learned something from that experience.”

“Well,” Eb said, “I learned later on that kissin’ is a lot more fun when the person you’re kissin’ is kissin’ too.”

Eb paused for a second and added, “You know, maybe I did learn something valuable in school.”

Arvid Huisman can be contacted at huismaniowa@gmail.com. ©2025by Huisman Communications.