“Whoo, it stank up in heeuh, Ms. ____! What you been eatin’?”
And so the complaints rolled in without reserve: my classroom reeks of onions today. (I am writing during my prep period, and the verb tense remains painfully present.) At first I was a little annoyed by the commentary because I didn’t smell anything myself. But — alas — stinky people never seem to be able to smell themselves, do they?
Aha. It took me about 10 minutes into first period to realize that, although not all of my students smell like roses, I was the chief offender today. Well, actually, the culprit was my wool coat, not my actual person, but the blame is all mine. Oh. My. God.
I should explain. F made a pretty robust French onion soup last night, and it seems as though my coat really enjoyed it. Slung over my chair in the rear corner of the classroom, it has been projecting onion pungence all day with admirable intensity. (I should probably jam the thing into my supply cabinet, but I just haven’t gotten around to it yet — and at this point the room is so tainted that I’m not sure it would make much of a difference.) When I discovered the source of the odor during first period, I burst into laughter (of course) and gave my students license to make fun of me for the rest of the day (which, naturally, they promptly began to do). And word spread like wildfire; every class since first period has walked in and said, “Whooo, they shoooow right! It does smell like onions up in yo room today!” True, my darlings. I think they are getting even more of a kick out of this than they did out of the “let’s fart” incident. Hahahahaha.
Anyway, the soup was delicious, but the Lingering Smell of Onion on My Clothing and General Person is not. What disturbs me is that my coat was hanging in another room last night, nowhere near the kitchen. Does this mean that everything I own will smell like onions from now on until I do something about it? If so, will I be able to recognize the stench, or will it become a part of me? I may have a major dilemma on my hands. I don’t want to be the Stinky Teacher.
ADDENDUM: F came into my classroom after school today and said, a little bashfully, “So — all day my students were complaining that my room smelled like onions…did yours?”
I guess we can both be Stinky Teachers. Gross.
