Elephant in the Room

The Perfect Black Circle

One of the funniest things that happened in high school was when I was a sophomore. I had a difficult math teacher. We’ll call him, Mr. Smith. (This photo is not him).

Tall and pompous, as some with superior intelligence tend to act, he had little patience for those of us who didn’t understand the complex concepts and theories he was teaching.

I wasn’t naturally gifted in math and after raising my hand to ask him to clarify something and seeing his raised eyebrow one too many times, I soon stopped asking.

Now, ask me anything having to do with English, grammar, writing, or literature in general, and I will mop up the floor with you … just don’t ask me about math beyond the basics.

So, continuing right along, my father became my math teacher each evening, so I could keep up with the class. Still, I was filled with anxiety during math class, until something happened to change my whole perception.

It was just after Christmas break. We had all filed into the classroom and sat at our desks, quietly waiting for Mr. Smith.

From the moment he walked into the room, all eyes were concentrated on a perfectly formed 4″ dark black circle in the center of his forehead.

We tried to stay focused on what he was teaching, but it was nearly impossible — the perfect black circle on his forehead commanded our full attention, like a weather beacon out at sea.

There may as well have been a purple elephant in the room. Everyone wore the same puzzled look.

A few minutes before the bell to signal the end of class, Mr. Smith smiled. Pointing to the obvious “purple elephant”, he said, “You’re probably all wondering about this bruise on my forehead (pointing).

(heads were nodding all around the room)

We have a six-month old who doesn’t like sitting in his high chair.

My wife bought a little toy with bells that we could attach to the tray to keep him occupied while we feed him — it’s attached by a suction cup.

It frightened him and to show him it was just a toy and nothing to to be afraid of, I licked the suction cup and stuck it here (again pointing). Then I jiggled it back and forth to make the bells jingle and he thought it was funny.

He was so happy that I kept it there, until he finished his breakfast. Obviously, it was not a good idea. I may be a genius in math, but I sure flunked my course in Common Sense.”

Then Mr. Smith laughed. It was a hearty laugh and so genuine that all of us couldn’t help but laugh with him.

Dad still taught me math every evening, but at least my anxiety in the classroom was gone.  The whole incident softened Mr. Smith and I never saw him act quite as pompously after that, although I still saw the raised eyebrow when I raised my hand to ask a question ...

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Hello Everyone.

I hope you’re all doing well. I want to thank you for being here with me. I’ve been writing here at Substack since Christmas Day for “CJ’s World at Substack" and I started another one, “CJ Heck’s Whispers of Knowing”, on January 28.

It’s gotten pretty hectic for me as I’ve been posting twice a day for both of them every day. Surprise, surprise … I went to a group meeting on here today and I found out I’m either going to burn out, or cause all of you to leave because I’m writing too many posts and you’re all busy reading other newsletters and trying to keep up with mine at the same time.

It has been suggested that I do one a week for each of my newsletters. That will be different for me, but I don’t want to burn out. It would defeat the whole purpose of why I’m here in the first place —I love to write and I love sharing with all of you.

Wednesdays will be the day I post, starting this next Wednesday, so this will be the last until then. Please don’t leave —I love all of you. Hugs, CJ

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this post, please share it and consider a paid subscription to “CJ’s World” on Substack. You won’t miss any future posts and you will find some nice gifts.  Hugs, CJ.