Potatoes on Drugs
I consider myself a pretty good kid, despite the time in eighth grade when I got in trouble for drawing sketches of an intoxicated Mr. Potatohead. When I tell people this story, I expect them to be surprised and say "Wow. I can't believe such a goody-two-shoes like you would do such a thing." Usually they just say something like, "Yup, that sounds like a total Allison move." I never know whether to be offended or not.
In all seriousness, giving a whole four hours to finish a forty question state exam is a recipe for mischief, especially in an eighth grade classroom. Unlike the naughty boys tossing paper balls at each other, I decided to spend my excess three hours doing something creative.
I had started a series of PSA posters with a careless Mr. Potatohead growing mold (a metaphor for STIs) and sprouting from his eyes (a metaphor for pregnancy). Inspired by the Brain on Drugs video, I decided to create a potato version.
I made a rough sketch of a Mr. Potatohead with the caption: "This is a potato." I drew a slightly drowsy looking potato -- "This is a potato on pot." That is when Dr. Hamilton, the math teacher looked over my shoulder and said amusedly, "That is too funny!" Motivated by her praise I drew a meth-addict Mr. Potatohead who had unattractive spots and patchy hair. Then, I drew a baked potato with the caption, "This is a potato who tried to cook meth." I was pleased with my chef-d'oeuvre.
As I was sitting at my desk, daydreaming about one day becoming the next George Grozs, I saw my inebriated potatoes get snatched from my peripheral vision. "Come to the office this instance, young lady!" I looked up and saw Mr. Bancroft, the socially aware and sensitive sixth grade english teacher scowling at me. I reluctantly marched to the vice principal's office . Dr. Hamilton looked on with surprise.
I had the lecture.
"This is wholly inappropriate. What made you do such a thing?"
"I thought it would be an interesting concept." I started to laugh hysterically. The laughing is regrettable.
"This is very concerning. I need you to understand that drugs are not funny at all. I don't want students to think that drugs are cool or cute, or whatever you were trying to portray in that sketch of yours."
"I didn't think of it in that way. I thought it would be cautionary." I was still laughing regrettably.
"How would your parents react if they saw your drawing?"
"They wouldn't think much of it."
"So you wouldn't mind if I called them right now?" the vice principal asked, probably hoping for me to beg forgiveness.
"Sure, you can," I said honestly.
"I'll, make sure I do so."
Knowing that I was quite the opposite of the archetypal delinquent, the vice principal changed the topic. She asked me where I was going to high school. I told her that I was going to the High School for the Performing and Visual Arts. She asked me I was going there for visual arts and I told her that I was going for theatre. Maybe she liked my drawing style. I was sent back to class.
"They knew it was just a joke, right?" Dr. Hamilton asked.
"I think that was the problem,"
"These days they are all so uptight about these things," the math teacher sighed and looked back at her computer screen.
That evening, my parents were not in the least bit mad. They thought my drawings were good, and that the school administrators overreacted. I guess not everybody could appreciate my top knotch art. There is no good way to be one hundred percent inoffensive, but now, I realize that I should have handled the situation more gracefully. It's also probably not a good thing to literally laugh at authority's face.