Among the top ten stupid notions that have afflicted my cranium, one deserves special mention...the yen to become a middle-school teacher. During my preparation for this adventure, I was asked to substitute for a class of 5th graders. I assumed, of course, that fifth graders were much easier to handle than seventh. These two notions occurred during a period in my life I now label as 'naive'.

Mrs. Wasson was in the classroom at 7:30 AM when I arrived. "You are the substitute I presume," she exclaimed. This tall and self-possessed teacher greeted me cheerfully. She was young and pleasant, and her smile seemed genuine... not like the kind normally reserved for bums, substitute teachers and other low-life.

After discussing the assignments, I asked about problem students... disciplinary cases in particular. She mentioned a couple of kids who tended to be a little rowdy. Mrs. Wasson paused thoughtfully, placed a thin finger on her cheek in the pose of the competent professional, and said, "...and then there is Freddy."

I chuckled, "So you are saving the worst for last. The bad dude. The real problem kid!"

"No, it's not that", she said pensively. "Freddy hasn't a malicious bone in his body. It's just that...", she paused, searching for the right expression. "Well, Freddy, you see, is determined to have a good time no matter where he is. You'll just have to be firm." The beginnings of a grin lifted the corner of her petite mouth. "You'll see what I mean."

She turned briskly and headed to the door, with a wave of the hand over shoulder, and a friendly "good luck".

The students arrived and the class began normally. I checked the seating chart and found Freddy. He was in the back, writing, and presenting no problems.

Things went well the first hour. Then unexpectedly, Freddy's head jerked up, eyebrows raised with a gleeful expression. Here it comes,I thought, I wonder what he is going to pull?

"Mr. Smalling?", he asked with an innocent tone. "Yes, Freddy, what do you want?", I answered, pretending indifference.

"May I sharpen my pencil?" He held up a new pencil, and I could see nothing wrong with the request. I certainly could not deny him the privilege because it was a permissible act. "Yes, Freddy, go ahead," I replied.

He strolled to the sharpener, inserted the pencil, and began to grind away with the handle, eyebrows still raised with a tinge of glee. I couldn't fathom why sharpening a pencil was so entertaining. The act seemed innocuous enough so I ignored him. That was my mistake.

He continued sharpening and sharpening and sharpening until he had a perfectly new pencil 'sharpened' clear down to the nub. He turned nonchalantly to the class with a distracted air, held up the pencil and said, "That looks about right."

Order in the classroom collapsed into hysterics. Their underdeveloped fifth-grade sense of humor actually found the act amusing. Or perhaps the amusing part was that the 'sub' had just been bamboozled.

I faced the class firmly, and asked, "Do you expect me to be amused at that? Sit down Freddy!"

Freddy feigned surprise at my feigned indignation and sauntered back to his seat, while I lectured him on unnecessary wastefulness.

I found it difficult to be really angry with him. Anybody able to turn Social Studies into fun has a lot going for him. A hidden genius. A special coping. So in my heart, I forgave him, though he never knew it.

The day continued normally, but I suspected this was not the end of Freddy's escapades. So I prepared myself mentally. Sure enough, about 5 minutes before the end of the class, Freddy raised his hand. "Mr. Smalling?!"

I was ready. I said, "Freddy, the answer is NO! That is the answer no matter what it is!" Freddy looked shocked. I knew I had him and it gave me a perverse satisfaction as he mumbled, "Thank you very much, Mr. Smalling."

I turned to the board again, but something tugged at the back of my mind. The way he muttered 'thank you' intrigued me. I faced the class again, and said, "Freddy, what was it you were asking?" He cleared his throat innocently and said, "I was asking if we really had to do our homework for tomorrow."

Laughter. Pandemonium. The sub had bitten the bait again.

A lot of years have passed since that class. I'm well past the beginner stage in which I take myself and the ministry too seriously. Mrs. Wasson's parting words have helped me. "Freddy is determined to have a good time, no matter where he is." Mission work in particular carries incredible stresses, and the ministry is not meant as an exercise in jocularity. But then, neither is Social Studies. If life was meant to be a drag, somebody forgot to tell Freddy. Adding a bit of Freddy's attitude helps me minister better.

The scenario of your life might seem dull and devoid of good times. But look around. Use a little imagination. Remember Freddy.