You Are Getting Very Sleeeepyyyyyy. . .

Shortly after the Paleolithic Age, Mr. Wonderful served his military commitment and I taught music to officers’ kids at an elementary on Fort Lost-In-The-Woods.

Young and enthused, I did not own a pitch pipe, and never, ever resorted to “Let’s listen to 'The Grand Canyon Suite' by Ferde Grofe again.”  

Instead, I sang a quick melodic excerpt to each student entering the music room and urged them to sing it back to me. With hand signals.  We plodded through an actual curriculum, uphill, since most parents got orders for elsewhere during the year.   Still, it was music class.

So it came as a shock when I saw a student copying during a test.  Later, I discreetly told the pupil what I had seen.  Done, I thought.

Until student's Mama Bear stormed the principal’s office  - on fire!  I was summoned, but had sense enough to let Mrs. Bear vent. The principal was supportive, but I was shaken.  

Fast forward to some minor surgery.  At the post hospital.  The anesthesiologist arrived.   Name tag: "Sergeant Major Bear."  As in, spouse of Mama Bear.  And he would be putting me to sleep.  TO SLEEP!!

Dr. Bear asked what I did on post. Apparently, the "loosen up" shot was working well.  I spilled the news about being the music teacher at his kids’ school, heh-heh, small world . . .

Would I wake up?  Would he tell the surgeon I was there for an amputation?  Would he slyly tell Mama Bear “Never mind that music teacher – she won’t be bothering us again.”

I said a quick “Hail Mary” as I nodded off.

Yep.  You would not be reading this blog if he had been out for blood.  In fact, he gave credence to that old adage, “opposites attract.”  What a nice man.  Very professional. Would recommend him.

But, in hindsight, I would NOT tell him about being the music teacher. 

Maybe just, "my dad always wanted me to be an anesthesiologist."