Stolen Thunder

The Grapes of Wrath, The Old Man and the Sea, To Kill a Mockingbird.  These are just a few of the books everyone should read.  They're rites of passage.  In my elementary school classroom I had my own standbys.  I read Charlotte's Web aloud to my kids every year and it never got old.  Then there was the ridiculous Sideways Stories From Wayside School, Hatchet and my all time favorite kids book:  Stone Fox.  

There was another book that I read with my students every year not because it was a great work of literature but because it had a hook.  Part of the challenge of teaching children is getting them to WANT to read.  To do that you have to appeal to their curiosity.  Generally speaking grade school age girls are more interested in reading than boys. That’s where the children’s classic “How to Eat Fried Worms” came in.  The title alone was enough to make the girls shriek and that’s all it took to get the boys to want to read it too.

The premise of the book was simple.  Billy wants a new dirt bike and his friends ask what he would be willing to do to get one.  Would he eat a worm? How about a worm a day for fifteen days?  Billy agreed to the dare/bet. He’d earn $50 if he could do it.  Each day Billy’s friends challenged him with a different nausea inducing concoction: Worm and maple syrup, worm and horseradish, worm and ketchup, worm ala-mode.  

I ramped up the story by telling my students that when we finished reading the book we’d all have the chance to eat worms just like Billy. Of course I didn’t mention that  we’d be eating gummy worms - they’d find that out eventually.  Every time I mentioned it I got the same response:  “Yuck!” Just what I was hoping for.  

There was only one kid who wasn’t going along with the program:  Carl.  He wanted so badly to be our class clown but that job was already taken by his teacher.  Every day as I tried to draw his classmates into wanting to find out what was going to happen next Carl would tell anyone who’d listen that he was just crazy enough to eat a worm.  I tried to convince him that it wasn't a good idea but even I couldn’t redirect old Carl.

When we finally finished the book we had a little celebration.  I ramped up the treat days in advance by telling everyone they’d get the chance to eat worms and that they shouldn’t knock it until they tried it.  No, I didn’t bring in worm Popsicles, worm spaghetti or worm ramen.   We had Dixie cups filled with crushed Oreos and gummy worms dangling out along the sides.  

On the last day when the rest of the class was going to enjoy the Oreos and gummy worms Carl brought in real worms.  I don’t remember if his were baked or microwaved but they were real, dead and definitely disgusting.  Carl got just the reaction he wanted:  the girls found both him and his worms repulsive - and there is no greater joy for a fourth grade boy than making a fourth grade girl squirm.  

The problem was that I thought it was my job to make everyone squirm and Carl was stealing my thunder.  I had volunteers pass out the treats.  The kids liked them but how do you compare with the kid who’s got real cooked worms?  Carl was the star attraction.  He kept on asking when he could eat his real worms and I kept trying to ignore him.  

I’d like to say he wore me down by asking me so many times but that’d be a lie. Elementary school teachers spend most of their time keeping the little people in their charge from taking over.  I could have held my ground but I didn’t.  So by about the tenth time Carl asked me if he could eat the worm I finally called his bluff.  A roomful of children watched as he took center stage in room 205.  Unfortunately his performance didn’t last long because no sooner did he put the worm in his mouth than he was gagging and running out of the room to rinse his mouth in the bubbler.  

That was the last year I read How to Eat Fried Worms with my class. How do you follow up a performance like that?  Besides by the next year every boy in my classroom would have wanted to top Carl’s stunt.  A smarter teacher than me would have successfully redirected Carl.  A more mature teacher would have channeled his energy toward something less disgusting but my students didn’t have a smarter more mature teacher.  They had me.