I wasn’t the most well behaved student in Mrs. Corkers 8th grade class. That year was the first and only time I ever had to change schools. I must have tried hard to fit in. I certainly got my share of attention, for a new kid. She was considered a good teacher, but was very stern. English was my most difficult subject. I didn’t like it, I didn’t understand it.

Mrs.Corker didn’t take to students that failed to excel in English. It was obvious that the two of us were going nowhere, fast. One day during class, she was talking about baking pies, cookies and such. It seemed that she was hinting that she could use some nice pecans.

This was my chance. We had a lot of pecans. I shelled a Kerr quart jar full of perfect pecan halves. It took me a while. May just have been the only day that I was anxious to go to school. The next morning I was on the bus, headed for school with those beautiful pecans sitting on the seat next to me.

We lived about nine miles out in the country. A couple of miles from school, the bus driver could see a car in the center of the up coming bridge. It was a narrow bridge. Irby, the bus driver slammed on the brakes to avoid tangling with the car on the bridge. The only crash that happened, was the jar hitting the floor.

My thought, “should I pick up the pecans and put them in my pockets”, ran through my mind. I had plenty of pockets. What would I do after I got to school? Before I knew it, the problem was solved. One hundred small feet while getting off the bus at school had taken care of everything.

Had it not been for that car on the bridge, I could have become Mrs. Corkers favorite student, at least for the day.