Here we go.

Dr. Gary Burner, “Where should we start?”

Teacher Will, “Ask me a question!”

G.B., “Want to see my etchings?”

W.V., “Ask me another.”

G.B., “Let’s start the interview, again, but with some semblance of structure. I must first ask you to reveal some innermost feelings—in the present. Then we’ll recall past pleasant moment and finally we’ll come up to date with current teaching activities. Are you ready?”

W.V., “I forgot what we were talking about.”

G.B., “Never mind! Let’s get started.”

Dr. G.B., “What has always been your secret goal in life?”

(Flexible Mr. V. responded…) “To dance with the Rockettes (G.B. winced noticeably) or my plan B is to ride the strawberry roan.”

G.B., “What has always been your most intimate fantasy?”

W.V., “Picture this scenario. I am running down a quiet beach at Gulf Shores, wearing my colleague’s best chicken suit, the one with magenta tights, and I am singing ‘It’s a Grand Old Flag’ with Ted Kennedy in drag. It just doesn’t get any better than that!”

G.B., “I agree! Now tell me—any hobbies?”

W.V., “Art was my hobby—till my wife found out. Now it’s the usual; silly walks, old antiques, tickling grandchildren, making faces, collecting autographed pictures of Mae West with U.S. Grant—alone together (but Custer keeps jumping between). Pop-ups are tiresome.”

G.B., “Other leisure time activities?”

W.V., “We watch the ant races on T.V. a lot but there’s never a clear winner.”

G.B., “Sounds exhausting. Anything more relaxing?”

W.V., “Well, on Saturday evening sin summer, we invites a few friends over and count the gravel in my neighbor’s drive. But if the party gets rowdy, she calls the cops.”

G.B., “What does she call them? Oh, never mind! Your silliness is catching.”

W.V., “Thanks. Maybe you could get a shot for that.”

G.B., “What caused you to choose teaching?”

W.V., “I wanted the big desk.”

G.B., “Who motivated you to go into teaching?”

W.V., “The stork.”

G.B., “Could you elaborate?”

W.V., “He flew too low.”

G.B., “What was your earliest academic success?”

W.V., “‘A’ in kindergarten naps.”

G.B., “As a high school student what was your greatest classroom accomplishment?”

W.V., “I learned to yawn without opening my mouth.”

G.B., “Your career g.p.a.?”

W.V., “The same as my best student this year: His 4.90, mine .490.”

G.B., “What was your greatest athletic accomplishment?”

W.V., “Easy. In basketball; eleventh man on the ten man traveling squad.”

G.B., “Did you have other athletic interests?”

W.V., “Well I used to run distance till dad pointed out I was going in circles.”

G.B., “Who was your most influential mentor?”

W.V., “A toss up between Groucho Marx and W.C. Fields.”

G.B., Any treasured college memories?”

W.V., “Yes. I made the Dean’s list (for academic probation).”

G.B., “Have military service?”

W.V., “Continuously!”

G.B., “Elaborate, please!”

W.V., “The following are especially fond memories and high-lights of my military career.

—The recruit entry station P.A. welcome—“Everyone from 15 mid-western states over here! Everyone from Chicago—over there!”

—December camp outs in the woods of Ft. Lost-in-the-Woods (Ft. Leonard Wood).

—Midnight raids on nearby mess kitchens.

—Appointed weekend manager of the back sink.”

G.B., “Pardon the interruption but—was that as high as you could go?”

W.V., “No, that was Chief Grease Trap Orderly. I eventually got there.”

G.B., “What else did you do in the infantry?”

W.V., “We walked. A LOT! Mostly in the rain and mud.”

G.B., “What were you trained to do?”

W.V., “Run through the woods fast and yell ‘Kill’.”

G.B., “Who was your platoon leader?”

W.V., “I think it was Lieutenant Calley.”

G.B., “What else did you shout—to build morale?”

W.V., “The Union—Forever.”

W.V., “Uh, maybe our platoon leader was a Mr. Hyde. I forget things.”

G.B., “Talk about other training.”

W.V., “We got to shoot a lot of noisy guns, run from tanks, get sun tanned operating machine gun targets, dodge ricochets and generally have a jolly time getting grungy.”

G.B., “What did you do on weekends?”

W.V., “Usually more of the same—like move rocks, crawl in the mud, dig holes, choose up sides and clean the latrine or hold choir rehearsals.

G.B., “What is the funniest thing you remember in the service?”

W.V., “Being in the service. Just kidding; funniest thing was Puerto Rican non-coms every morning, kicking over double-decker bunks—a wake up call for the troops. The bunks would go down like dominoes—in slow motion.”

G.B., “Tell me more about those military days.”

(Our Hero), “In South Carolina, we used to choose up sides and play war games: ‘You 5,000 over there—you’re the bad guys. And take off those black cowboy hats!’ ‘You 5,000 over here—you are the good guys. Wait until dark—and come out shooting.’ ‘Private V, when did you get time to paint butterflies on your hard hat?”

G.B., “Military awards?”

W.V., “First to be taken prisoner in all major war games. Should I go on?”

G.B., “STOP. You’re giving the peace-time infantry a bad name.”

W.V., “I try.”

G.B., “Let’s go on to something else.”

G.B., “In all your years of teaching art, what was your favorite time?”

W.V., “Summer.”

G.B., “No, no. I mean during your school day?”

W.V., “Afternoon naps.”

G.B., “Let’s move on. Is there one significant thing you tell kids about art materials?”

W.V., “Yes. Don’t touch me.”

G.B., “Anything else?”

W.V., “Don’t chew the art gum.”

G.B., “Through all the years teaching art, what was your most recurring daily annoyance?”

W.V., “Being mistaken for Cary Grant.”

G.B., “Some favorite admonishments for art students?”

W.V., “Yes. One was to learn to spell admonishment. Another was ‘Don’t keep waltzing around the room when you know I’m playing a tango.’ This was to get them back on task. Usually most of the guys stop dancing together—but not always.”

G.B., “Some other teaching gems?”

W.V., “Yes. ‘Never erase, ‘mister’—it’s a sign of weakness.’ I learned that one from John Wayne, you know. He and Elvis still come through art class sometimes, but they refuse to pose together.”

G.B., “What are some traditions you have established in your art classes?”

W.V., “Well, I always wear black on quiz day—to keep up the ‘bad guy’ image. Others are…

—extra credit for grand entrances—carrying a piano.

—most outlandish costume contest on Fridays (but not in MY chicken suit).”

—and no dancing on the tables (unless music is playing).

—First artist to learn the third verse to Amazing Grace gets an A.

—AND on special occasions, we all dress up in funny pantaloons, wear cute little hats, use lots of hand gestures—and call each other by first names like Raffaello, or Cravaggio.”

W.V., “Mind if I ask YOU a question?”

G.B., “Go ahead.”

W.V., “Just what was so amazing about Grace anyway?”

G.B., “Let’s get on with this nonsense.”

G.B., “Other art class traditions?”

W.V., “Yes.”

G.B., “Well, what ARE some?”

W.V., “Never show your best work. Your viewers will come to expect it.

—(In the 70’s) Never wear just beads and sandals to class in winter. It’s too cold. Wear your headbands.

—Never keep drawing after they cut the lights off.

—Use both hands to make darker lines.

—Don’t draw my caricature on the walls (with permanent markers).

—Stop bringing big names like Leonardo and Rembrandt into Art History class. They charge too much for guest appearances.

—Don’t shave your head for spring. It will scare your dog when you get home.

—Don’t chew the kneaded erasers. It makes them soggy and hard to work with.”

G.B., “Other treasured truisms for your trusty truants through time?”

W.V., “What?”

G.B., “Anything else?”

W.V., “Yes, here area few more:

—Always sign your work. Someone else might get blamed for it.

—Never smile before Christmas. Your braces will show.

—Always wear dancing shoes. Bare feet can get squashed while square dancing in art.

—Never tell the principal what a good time we’re having. More kids will be sent in.

—Always be courteous to custodians. You may soon be applying for employment.

—Treat secretaries with respect. They have access to your file.

—Wear clean overalls on Mondays.

—Don’t shade with pointillism. It will make your eyes cross.

—Put all your work on the refrigerator not in it. (Moms love this one.)

—Sign work with your right name. No more aliases like Donatello or Harry Truman.”

G.B., “Can you think of some punishments you have used for effective class management?”

W.V., “No.”

G.B., “Oh, come on; just a few?”

W.V., “OK. Here are a few that have worked with semi-effectiveness for my semi-artists:

—all four feet on the floor during roll call.

—If the room gets too quiet, we sing out in unison—I L-O-V-E this place! Too much quiet scares the mice.

—If ink gets spilled, the spill-er and spill-ee both write on the chalkboard: I hate it when that happens!—backwards.

—If there is an altercation, each party makes and wears a sign—HE’S A PRINCE. I’M A TROLL! AND—the customary disclaimer sign on the back—WELL—MAYBE NOT A PRINCE—A DUKE.”

G.B., “Let’s stop this foolishness. I have to get home to watch cartoons.”

W.V., “I’m a Stan Laurel man myself.”

G.B., “Let us make an end to this.”

W.V., “Don’t say END!”

G.B., “OK. Let’s terminate our interview.”

W.V., “Don’t say terminate.”

G.B., “Well, this is the finish.”

W.V., “Don’t say finish.”

G.B., “Finale?”

G.B., “Terminus?”

W.V., “It has such a death-knoll to it.”

G.B., “I’ve about hit my limit with you.”

W.V., “Don’t say limit.”

G.B., “I know! Let us bring this meeting to closure.”

W.B., “Now—you’re talking! Jargoneze, Gary baby!”

G.B., “Lastly, here’s your coat and cane. How else may I help you out?”

W.V., “Show me which say I came in.”

G.B., (Leaning out the door as the tired, old art teacher slowly trudged away into the wintry night) * “Remember, always wear red of Friday and wave loudly at the name of our bright district,” he yelled.

W.V., “No thanks. I never bathe or bed in the red light district. Certainly, not proudly.”

(…And the old codger slowly hobbled off into the night humming to himself, “We’ve only just begun.” But he thought he heard the younger man mumble something about putting in for early retirement, himself.

Footnote: All names have been changed to protect the perpetrators.