True Sh*t 7: The Hand Of Mr Cashen

Wifey-Do told me that today is National Teacher's Day. So let's open up a bottle of Woodford Reserve and have a toast to those who devote themselves to the care and feeding of America's young minds. Now let me tell you one of the many teacher tales I know...

A long time ago, in that mephitic land called Tacoma Washington, there was a school known as Southgate Elementary. And in that school was a teacher who taught second grade. His name was Mr. Cashen.

Male teachers were not common at Southgate, and I looked upon them and their air of firm authority with a bit of worry. I believe that almost all of us felt a Biblical kind of fear when we were in the presence of Mr. Cashen; one part reverence, one part wet your pants with fear kind of fear. You see, Mr. Cashen had a reputation of being intolerant of disruptive classroom behavior. Some said he even hung one unruly kid by his thumbs from the rafters. I'm sure the little bastard had it coming.

One time we all went into Mr. Cashen's classroom for reasons I forget, and a kid, whose attention was at a deficit, drew a swastika on a piece of paper. He didn't know what that symbol meant to some people, but Mr. Cashen was kind enough to enlighten him. Mr. Cashen explained that his tour of Europe in the forties gave him a strong distaste for swastikas, and his dearly departed friends didn't care for it either. The kid wadded up the paper and threw it away.

My other memory of Mr. Cashen involves a type of kid known as the class clown. He was a tough act to follow, though I tried with all sincerity. One afternoon near the end of the school day, we watched through the window of Mr Cashen's classroom door as the kid goofed off. Our revelry was checked by a heavy arm that came into view and a large hand that grasped the young entertainer's ear between thumb and index finger. The hand yanked the kid from our sight. There was always decorum in Mr. Cashen's room.