All the Children Were Above Average

One time a student of mine earned a B.
He wanted to go to Yale; his mother
and he believed his life would be ruined
if he didn’t go to Yale. The two of them
sat in my classroom and cried. “This
is a disaster,” his mother said. “No,”
I said, “a disaster is when your son
steps on a landmine and loses
both of his legs. This is just a B.”

Another time a father called to tell me
his son had never earned anything
less than an A. “There’s always
a first time,” I said. He called me again.
I told him to talk to my boss. He
just kept yakking. I hung up on him.

Then there was the lady who thought
she was a pitbull. She got her teeth
into my flesh, and wouldn’t let go.
This was over an A- instead of an A.
She wanted to bargain, trade a grade
from a previous quiz for a future
consideration. Like a baseball trade.
Relentless, she sent a dozen e-mails
in as many hours. Next morning,
I opened an e-mail from her husband.
“I was staying out of this,” he wrote,
“But now you’ve insulted my wife.”
I sent the whole long e-mail chain
to my boss, “You’re in charge,” I said,
“This is way above my pay grade.”
The kid was my advisee; he and his
parents never spoke to me again.
I took that as a blessing.

A Humorless Profession

As I’ve grown older, I’ve needed general
anesthetic, or at least heavy sedation,
ever more often: prostate surgery,
cataracts, a hernia, and of course,
colonoscopies like clockwork every
three years since I was fifty-five
because they’re always finding polyps.

And every time the anesthetist
sticks the needle in, I always say,
“I don’t care if I expire on the table
because I’ll never know the difference
if I do. Lots worse ways to die.”

They never laugh. They always look
as if they’ve swallowed a goldfish live.

And when I come around, I always say,
“Your lucky day. I didn’t die this time.”
Like telling a Polish joke in Warsaw.
Like farting at a First Communion.

W.D. Ehrhart’s most recent collections are Thank You for Your Service: Collected Poems (McFarland, 2019) and Wolves in Winter (Between Shadows Press, 2021).  His website is www.wdehrhart.com.