A Five-Dollar Dilemma

The year was 1999. I was in Grade 3. Which meant it was time to learn all about pioneers!

Looking back, that seems a bit silly to me. Is an eight-year-old really supposed to be interested in learning about pioneers? It just seems a bit too soon.

Back then, all I cared about was snack time, recess, and who I sat next to on the carpet.

Do we ever get to a point in our life where we don’t care about who we sit next to on a carpet? Think about it. 

As part of the curriculum, Pioneer Day was held for everyone in Grade 3. An entire day devoted to living like pioneers.

That included: wearing one of my Dad’s really big plaid shirts, sitting in the classroom with the lights off, and standing up whenever we had to ask the teacher something.

Essentially, the entire pioneer experience was right at my fingertips.

I remember the day before Pioneer Day, we had to practice raising our hands, standing up, and politely asking to go to the washroom. That was the first time I heard the, “May I go to the washroom?” vs. “Can I go to the washroom?” discussion. I never understood the pleasure some teachers got by saying, “I don’t know, can you?”

Emphasis on the can. No pun intended.

All someone wanted to do was go to the washroom, and an english lesson broke out.

If I stood up and screamed “Toilet!”, would the teacher ask me to put it in a complete sentence, or would they immediately understand that I was in a dire situation?

Fast forward to present day for one second. If I’m sitting at a table and I require ketchup for my fries, and the ketchup is on the other side of the table, the next words out of my mouth are “Stop hoggin’ the Heinz!” “Can you pass the ketchup?” And every time, someone will pass it to me without saying, “I don’t know, can I?”

School should be more like real life, just sayin’.

Alright, so Pioneer Day was finally here. I wore one of my Dad’s really big plaid shirts and pulled off the Donald Duck look for the day.

Just kidding, I wasn’t wearing a bow tie.

The shirt was tucked into my pants and kept my knees warm throughout the day. The short sleeves almost reached my wrists. Almost! I must’ve been growing.

So there we were sitting in our dark classroom, relying on the light in the hallway to fill the room (ironic, huh?), when I thought I would ask to go to the washroom.

I raised my hand, was called upon, stood up like a proud pioneer and said, “May I go to the washroom?” “You may.”

I MAY!

I exited the room and instantly turned into a kid from 1999 who showed up to school wearing an oversized shirt. Pioneer Day was on hold. Nature had called.

I’ve been waiting two and a half years to make a phone call/washroom pun on this blog.

It’s important to note that the door of my classroom gave a view of the entire hallway. There was no hiding. If you looked into another class to find a friend, my teacher would see you in plain sight. If you pulled out a phone to text, they would see you. It was the 90s.

After I left the washroom, I went back to class. All of a sudden, I noticed something folded up on the floor next to the wall. It was blue. This being Canada, it was a five-dollar bill!

Oh my goodness, a five-dollar bill! It was folded about four times. I picked it up. I was rich. With very little sense of what five dollars could buy, I was thinking I could afford a mansion. Or, at the very least, a cozy two bedroom apartment with a view.

Little did I realize that I now had a five-dollar dilemma on my freshly washed hands.

I had to find a place to store my riches. I didn’t have a wallet and my pants didn’t have a pocket. My oversized shirt had a pocket, though! A front pocket. I put the five-dollar bill in the pocket and started walking back to class.

Only problem was, it was too obvious. The pocket was too big. The bill bounced around my like a pinball and I feared it might fall out, or worse, be spotted by someone who wanted an explanation.

At this point, my adorable eight-year-old conscience was getting the best of me, too.

Or maybe I had seen too many episodes of Scooby Doo and was familiar with the line, “I would’ve gotten away with it too, if it hadn’t been for you meddling kids and that dog of yours.” and didn’t want to find myself reciting that line in the Principal’s office.

Nah, let’s go with the conscience thing.

Running out of options, I took the folded up five-dollar bill out of my pocket and threw it back on the ground where I found it. That’s right, I put a five-dollar bill back on the floor. I intentionally lost five dollars.

A trip to the washroom and two money transactions, within four minutes. What a busy school day.

My future two bedroom apartment with a view was thrown away just like that. All because I didn’t have a pocket which properly disclosed the money. And because of my Canadian conscience, of course.

What would my Dad do if he ever found five dollars on the ground? This shirt pocket was not fit to carry money. People. Would. See. It. Poor Dad. 

The pioneer wardrobe failed me.

I like to think I did a good thing that day. And I didn’t even brag about it to anyone. What a concept. Probably because the entire class would’ve asked to go to the washroom and scoop the five dollars for their greedy, money hungry, mansion dreaming, selves.

I wonder if kids still have Pioneer Day. Or if they have updated it to “90s Day.” Where the kids have to wear jean jackets, questionable hairstyles, and their Mom’s old fanny pack.

That way, if they found five dollars on the floor, they would have somewhere to put it.

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About Paul

This is the part where I'm supposed to write something interesting about myself and you'll read it and think, "That's not that interesting." So let's not do that and just think about pizza instead, on the count of three. One, two, three. Donuts. Now, wasn't that interesting?
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23 Responses to A Five-Dollar Dilemma

  1. Squid says:

    What? You Canadian people have a Kingfisher on your money? Ah… I need to move to Canada. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Barb Knowles says:

    Hysterical! Shoulder-shaking hysterical. And embarrassing. The misuse of can and may drives teacher-me crazy. Because the question itself is so annoying. The hand shooting straight up in the air isn’t going to make a pithy remark, which for some reason I expect every time, but will ask to go to the bathroom. So I’m already annoyed with “Can I go to the bathroom?” My response is usually “How old are you? I hope you can.” Then everyone is mad at everyone.
    Your connection to real-life with ketchup is priceless.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Jess says:

    What a stressful day for an eight year old.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. hahaha……….great tale. Me I would have taken the money to the teacher………too honest

    Liked by 2 people

  5. rebbit7 says:

    Haha! The “can” pun got me! Why you gotta be so clever, man? Great story; I want more!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. This is a great story! I felt rich when I found a loonie in the 90’s…so you were a millionaire as far as my 8 year old self would be concerned. Ironically enough, my grandmother still has some of these 5 dollar bills hanging around.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Paul, it’s probably just as well. I fear the bill would have only burnt a hole in your pocket. But the English lesson was also classic. LOL! If that had happened to me after I stood and asked to go to the bathroom, I would have just wet my pants and said, “Never mind” and sat back down. English lesson over. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  8. shubhada says:

    Hi Paul! 🙂
    Do we still care about whom we sit next to on the carpet? Do we? Do we? That one has got me thinking.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Paul says:

      Hi! Long time no talk!
      To be perfectly honest, that’s a question I’m still asking myself haha. I was hoping everyone reading it would come to their own conclusion and not question me on it, but you have! Thanks…

      Like

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