The Ballad Of The One-Armed Man

The One-Armed Man

About six months ago, a little plastic toy showed up at work.  Actually, it’s just a torso with an arm.  I don’t know where it came from, or how it got there, but nevertheless, it showed up.  This is particularly strange in that there are very rarely kids at work and it’s unlikely they’d have any toys if they were there.

The torso looks like a piece of Duplo™ or maybe a piece from one of those Kinder Surprise™ eggs that you get at the supermarket, with the constructible toys inside.  If you know the actual identity of the figure, please let me know.

When it showed up, I was sitting with the book-keeper at work, Anne M.  We were chatting between classes as we often do, and I spotted it, and put it on my finger tip. It was one of those bizarre moments which, for some reason, we both found inexplicably hilarious.  I’m not certain who did it first, but since that day, we’ve taking turns hiding the little man around the office where it sits unmolested until the other finds it, and re-hides it.

A couple of good places have been blue-tacked under the height adjustment lever of Anne’s office chair, and she hid it on one of the support struts on a desk in the classroom.  Another time I kidnapped the little arm and placed it on her car bonnet over at the parking lot.

I always know she finds it because I get an SMS like “Idiot” or “Cretin!” when she eventually spots it.  Rest assured, I respond in kind.

The one-armed man is in my possession at the moment, and I’m pondering a spot to put him. Since the others who work in the office aren’t in on the joke, it needs to be a place where he won’t be thrown out as garbage.  My dream hide would be to actually post it to her, so it’s in her mail at home, or even better to find out where he’s from, buy a billion of them and scatter them all over the office as though they’d multiplied.  That’s a little unrealistic though.

For now though, the ballad of the one-armed man remains unfinished.

It Was Nice To Meet You

In my job as a computer teacher, I meet all sorts, and those who know me have often heard me tell stories of bizarre characters and some of the strange things the students do or say.  It was a pleasure to meet one student, an elderly lady named Joan Duncan.

She first attended my Computers for Beginners course around 3 years ago and must have liked it, because she enrolled into the Microsoft Office course the following term.  A lot of seniors have difficulty with the tasks and remembering what to do from week to week, but Joan was ok.  She’d go off and practice and if she had any questions, she’d organise them well and ask the following week.  She was never pushy and she’d never take time away from others when quizzing me for information.  Often students can be quite demanding when trying to get extra help beyond what the course offers.

Joan must have enjoyed the Office course, because she did it again the next term.  That’s rare, but not unheard of.  Some students, especially those fresh from the Beginners courses can only retain a certain amount of information and choose to repeat. I’m happy with that, it keeps me in work and the ones that return feel more settled and comfortable, which brings a relaxing atmosphere to the class room.

Joan Duncan, however, was special.  She returned to Office for a third term and the term after that.  In fact, she came back to the same Office class on a Monday morning a total of twelve consecutive times over a period of three years.  Each time she showed up for the first day of term I’d laugh and ask her if she’d had enough yet, but she’d just smile and say, “Oh well, I pick up a few things each time I come back.”  She must have, because by the last few terms she could pretty much predict what I was going to say next.  I had to change-up my lesson plans to keep her guessing.   At the end of each term as I handed out certificates, I joked that Joan was using them to wallpaper her kitchen.

Today, there was a note on my desk in an envelope and a name penned in a stylish script.  It was from Joan.  The note reads-

Dear Garry,

Thanks for all your help over the years. I don’t expect to be back to your classes and I really do appreciate your patience and kindness. I enjoy using my computer and will always be learning something new from the book.

Yours sincerely,

Joan Duncan

‘The book’ refers to the manuals the college hand out as training aids in the courses.

Last term Joan confided in me that she feels her health is starting to fail, and that she’s changing her living arrangements so that she can be afforded more care by the retirement home where she dwells.  To me, she seems as sharp and as well as could be for a person of her years, but I guess I only saw her for the two hours each Monday.  I feel sad that I won’t have her in my classes again, even though I personally feel I have nothing more I can teach her in that area. This is the first term in a long time that the Monday morning class hasn’t run due to lack of enrolments.  It’s a slack term, and I guess that was the catalyst for Joan’s departure.  I wish her well in her new situation at the retirement village and I’m quite certain she’ll continue to learn on her own.  Monday mornings will be ‘Joan Day’ for some time to come, I think.

Life would be much simpler if every class was filled with students like her.  Or Playboy models. Either way.