Canned Food Drive

Before descending into a pitiful pit of unpopularity in junior high, I was considered to be reasonably cool, smart, and likable by my elementary school peers. This personality combination was my ticket to getting on student council. Thought it was a big deal to me at the time, I can't really remember what we actually were responsible for as representatives. I'll be damned if they let ten year olds actually make substantial school decisions, and it's not even like we had dances to choose themes for at that age.

One responsibility I do remember, however, was drumming up excitement for the annual food drive. As a sixth grader, I volunteered to present to my former first grade teacher's class. I used to really like her, aside from the fact that she would tease any kids she saw picking their noses, which was problematic considering how much I excelled at that activity at that age.

Knowing first graders to be pretty dumb, I figured it might help to bring in a canned good as a visual aid when I explained the process to the little nose-pickers, so I brought some Spaghettios from my cabinet at home. As I started presenting, my teacher cut in to give a preemptive lecture to her students: "And remember, this is for Thanksgiving, so think about the kinds of food that you would want for that. Don't just bring in anything in a can like Spaghettios."

At this point, the Spaghettios can was still stuffed in my pocket, protruding a bit. Maybe my teacher was just being a bitch, but I don't think she noticed that I had brought them in as an example. There was, however, a kid up front who had noticed the can. I want to say that I remember this kid's face clearly, but I also want to describe him as both wide-eyed and Asian, and like not to be racist, but I'm doubting my recollection for this reason.

Anyway, when the teacher made the Spaghettios comment and I tried to shove it deeper into my pocket, this kid up front made two sudden movements. One arm shot straight up in order to get called on, while the other hand pointed straight at my pocket with a firm index finger. This kid was going to rat me out for being insensitive to the poor's holiday dietary needs. Doesn't he have better things to do with his hands like shoving them up his nostrils? To silence him, I gave him a condescending head pat, and made a quick exit from the classroom.

Ashamed to have brought in the Spaghettios in the first place, rather than donating the can, I brought it back home and ate the contents. It was great. Anyone who thinks they're too good to enjoy some Spaghettios for Thanksgiving probably doesn't enjoy the finer, simpler things in life... like nose-picking.