Field Mouse/ Mulot (Photo credit: Max xx)
So, in case you are unaware, I have had a mouse in my room. UGH! Horrific! Poison baits didn’t work. Starvation didn’t work. So, trusty James, the superman of keeping our school clean and orderly, put in a “sticky” trap.
Alas, the darn mouse managed to get stuck in the trap during the middle of my first class! There it was flopping on the dang sticky pad. The kids freaked. I freaked! No child would deal with it. Me, heck no! Some kids jumped up on the desks in terror. Me, heck yes! Some mousers gathered near the terrified Stanley (my name for said rodent), and within seconds my sleepy teens turned into the fervent paparazzi of Mouseville.
So, I went in search of a brave soul to save us. Classen apparently isn’t into mice. So I continued along the hall until (drum roll please) the Wid! Wid will be my hero! He growled a little. Scoffed. And started rummaging through his drawers in search of his survival knife. No luck! He told me to grab Symonds from the office and we’d three meet in my room. So Symonds “Mouse-slayer” to the rescue.
As Symonds and I came into the room, the kids were now protecting it from us. Yuv was on a campaign to save the critter; he even Googled how to get the mouse off the sticky to save it. Alas, Symonds said, “Move it”! Despite the heartfelt protests from the kids, he promptly took the trap, with mouse, outside and stomped it to its death, then threw it in the big old trash bin. The kids were horrified by the inhumanity. So, Symonds assured them it was quick and merciful as he pointed out the mouse guts on his shoe, while adding some humour with other rodent catching stories.
In the middle of Symonds’ tall tales of rodent killing, Wid enters – mighty heroically with his Popeye pirate scowl, carrying a shovel in one hand and an axe in the other, armed for the attack: “Where is this thing?” We laughed hysterically.
Symond’s looks him up and down and mocks, “Really?”
Wid defends, “Quick and painless! Chop off his head and scoop him up!” Symonds disappoints with the news that he already took care of business – smirking and pointing to the blood soaked sole of his shoe.
Alas, I told the kids that if they wrote a poem in honour of Stanley the mouse, we’d have a lil’ ceremony the next morning. So, within 2 hours, two students submitted this little ditty, with much credit due to The Fresh Prince himself. So, on Thursday, May 30 we lay Stanley to rest in the waste container outside the school. Alkarim and Kishan rapped their lil’ Tribute while TK offered a heartfelt eulogy. A bonding moment, indeed!
Never a boring moment in the ol’ Hunni Pot!
Here is what the boys wrote (put it to the tune of The Fresh Prince of Bel Aire):
Tribute to your Roommate
Now this is the story all about how
My life got flipped, turned upside down.
And I’d like to take a minute, just stick right there
I’ll tell you how Symond’s stomp made me the ghost in The Trash Lair
In Northwest Calgary born and raised
In the classroom where I spent most of my days.
Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool
And learning some English inside of the school.
When a couple of guys, they were up to no good,
Started laying traps in my neighborhood.
I got in one little trap and Mrs. Hunnisett got scared
So Sy snarled, “You’re moving with your auntie and uncle in The Lair”
I whistled for help and when it came near,
the License plate said “Widmer” – with an axe n’ shovel for a deer.
If anything I could say is that this man was rare
But I thought nah, forget it, yo homes to The Lair!
I pulled up to the bin about seven or eight,
And yelled to Sy and Wid “Yo, homes smell you later!”
Looked at my kingdom, I was finally there,
To sit on my throne as the Prince of my Lair.
– Kishan and Alkarim
