I found out recently that my favorite high school English teacher passed away. Cancer. She was a fun and engaging teacher. I really hate cancer. News of her passing brought her class to mind, and a few of the memorable experiences I had there. One in particular revolved around a group assignment on the short story, The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. It’s about a young man who wakes up one morning as a giant vermin, bug, beetle thing. Our assignment was to reenact and discuss a scene from the book in front of the class. My Dad was an entomologist. I had access to all kinds of insects. My high school self saw a perfect opportunity.
Dad would often do bug presentations at our schools. He would bring an observation bee hive, chocolate covered crickets, a tarantula, and of course, the giant Madagascar hissing cockroach. I convinced my group mates that we should focus on the penultimate scene, when Gregor wakes up and realizes he has changed into a bug. I hope that I asked Ms. Powell for permission, but I may not have. Either way, my group agreed, and the plan was set in motion.
It wasn’t too difficult to convince Dad to let me take one of the hissing roaches to school. We put it in a mason jar with some roach food and I carried it around in my backpack. I didn’t let anyone see it, and my group was sworn to secrecy. Like all good showmen I wanted the big reveal to be a highly anticipated surprise. Once our turn came to present, we started our skit. Our scene was perfunctory, basically just a vehicle to get to the real goal. We went through the motions, introducing the characters and then sending Gregor off to bed with a pillow and some sheets, hidden behind Ms. Powell’s desk. I kept the jar in my backpack at the front of the room. As I reached into my backpack, unscrewed the lid, and prepared to set things in motion, the expectations of the class heightened perceptibly. This was the type of moment I lived for, so I drew it out.
Finally, once night had passed and the fictional sun peaked through our fictional window, we threw off the sheets and I not so gently dumped the Madascar hissing cockroach on the floor of the classroom in front of Ms. Powell’s desk. Gregor was now a bug. The roach did not disappoint. It immediately started running toward the far end of the room, right across the front of class. Pandemonium ensued. High school girls squealed, desks screeched, some kids in the back stood up to get a better look, and many burst into laughter. I remember looking up at Ms. Powell right about then and she had a huge grin on her face. She loved it! What an awesome teacher.
I let the roach continue on its merry way for a few moments. They aren’t very fast. We tried to continue our presentation, explaining how Gregor felt now that he had metamorphosed into this hideous form. Nobody was paying attention. It was about then that I realized there was a flaw in my plan. How would I get the hissing behemoth back into the jar? My Dad would have picked it up, let it crawl around on his hand for effect, and then gently place it back into the jar. I was still a boy, not yet a man, so I wasn’t about to touch the thing. I ended up trying to gently coax the roach back into the mouth of the jar with a piece of paper. (Weak) I eventually succeeded, we briefly concluded our presentation, and we took our bows to rousing cheers and applause. At least that’s how I remember it.
I got an A on that project.