A Tough Crowd

A number of weeks ago our school faculty got together to listen to a small collection of inquiry project presentations from our early childhood student interns. Each of the four student-teachers took a turn sharing with us what they had worked on during the past semester- building community, conflict resolution, etc - and how it turned out for them. Afterward, they invited questions and comments from the teachers.

I mostly sat and listened. That is, until one of our fourth grade teachers decided to share a quote that he felt had some connection to the project being shared. It evidently was a humorous quote. Or at least it was intended to be because when he finished, and everyone in the room sat silently, he exclaimed, "That was funny!"

"Oh, is that how your finishing your jokes now?" I asked, "by telling us 'That was funny?'"

He laughed.

"Is this something you find you need to say after a lot of your jokes? Because if it is you might want to stop telling them," I said, further rubbing it in.

Jokes are like that, though. Sometimes people find them funny. Sometimes they don't. And sometimes they're just flat out put off by them.

I once had a meteorology professor that started our first day of class with the following two jokes:

"How does Kurt Cobain collect his thoughts?"
"...with a mop."

"Did you see the flight plan Bob Richards turned in for his last flight?"
(he drew a line gradually lifting up from the ground then then nosediving straight back down)

Both jokes were about people who had recently died. Kurt Cobain committed suicide by shooting himself in the head and local meteorologist Bob Richards, also committing suicide, drove his plane into the ground to escape the growing rumors about his supposed affair.

Neither man was necessarily a model citizen but I didn't like the fact that this teacher was making fun of thier deaths; none-the-less, on our very first day of class together. Perhaps there are some types of jokes you reserve for friends, or at least close acquaintances. I would think jokes about death would fall into this category.

My dad used to tell all kinds of really bad jokes. He enjoyed them whether they made you laugh or not. And he didn't shy away from making fun of the fact that people had died. One of his favorites was "Do you want to see my impersonation of John Wayne?" He would then fold his arms across his chest and close his eyes as though he were lying in a casket. He had a similar impersonation of Elvis, but with a snarled lip.

Neither impersonation was all that funny but I doubt anyone was ever offended. Sometimes people didn't even get it. They'd stare at him and wonder what in the hell he was doing. "So go ahead," they'd suggest.

Some of my own jokes are like this. I definitely inherited my sense of humor from my dad because most of my jokes aren't funny either but I still enjoy telling them. Every once in a while, though, I'll tell a joke and be disappointed no one else found it as humorous as I did - if for no other reason than to share a laugh.

This happened a few nights ago. Tricia, the kids, and I were at a holiday party saying our goodbyes before heading out the door. I stopped by to wish our friends, Tim and Heidi, a happy holiday when Heidi leaned in and quietly mentioned that she had something to give me before I left.

"Head back to the bathroom," she said. "I also have something I want to talk to you about."

The bathroom? I was  pretty sure I must have heard that wrong. Still, I walked back toward the bedroom where all the coats and bags were being kept. Once I entered the bedroom, with Heidi right behind me, I looked back over my shoulder and she looked as though she was waiting for me to continue. So, taking a chance of thoroughly embarrassing myself, I hung a right and walked into the bathroom. And sure enough, she followed me in!

So there we were standing together in someone else's bathroom. It was pretty big with a nice green marble tub and all. But still, if you wanted to sit down it'd have to be on the toilet because it was the only seat.

As if things weren't weird enough Tim showed up. He just walked right in too. Like he was expecting to see us there. If they weren't both so nice I would have suspected that maybe I was about to get beat up or something. "You lure him into the bathroom," Tim might suggest, "and I'll be right behind you to jump him!"

But he didn't. Instead Heidi handed me a gift bag and, unsure whether she wanted me to open it then or wait, I pulled out the Christmas card and commented on the great picture of their boys in Hawaii. Heidi then proceeded to talk about the book she's writing for Heinemann (a big-time publisher of texts for teachers and educators) and some of the issues she's having with how it will be written.

She suggested that she, Tim, and I think on these issues over the break and get back together to discuss it after the holidays. These are the types of discussions and I love and, without doubt, the fact that she would even think to include me in this task is tremendously flattering. Yet I still couldn't get over the fact that we were hanging out in the bathroom together. And that they seemed so at ease as though they had had many important talks in other people's bathrooms.

As we wrapped up the conversation and made tentative plans to meet again in a few weeks I suggested "That sounds great. But next time let's meet in YOUR bathroom."

Two blank faces stared right back at me. Evidently they hadn't spent the past five minutes thinking about that bathroom. Evidently they didn't find this to be even remotely funny - a fact I couldn't stop talking about on the drive home.

"Seriously," I pleaded to Tricia. "I was making light of the fact we were standing around exchanging gifts and having a professional conversation in the very same room that our principal uses to flush her system - and yet nothing."

And then it hit me. I forgot to tell them.

"That was funny."