What day is like a command?

From third to seventh grade I was always in the same class with David J., who was the biggest teacher's pet who ever drew breath. 

In fourth grade he got up in front of the class with his book of questions and answers. When he asked, "Do monkeys cry?" he screwed up his face and asked the question as if he were crying. The rest of the class rolled their eyes, but Mrs. Singer was enchanted.

He won the speech contest in fifth grade with his recitation of "Casey at the Bat." Instead of a baseball cap, he wore his little round Cub Scout hat on the back of his head, which everyone thought was so cu-uuuu-uute. When he got to the line, "And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow," he swung his little baseball bat with a downward chop. The teachers lapped it up because it was so cu-uuuu-uuu-uute. The boys in the class were ecstatic that he won, and they stood outside the classroom and chanted, "We want David! We want David!" at recess.

In seventh grade he got the award for best librarian's helper from Miss Ketola, and he beamed as he pranced up to the stage to receive his award.

The worst was in fourth grade, though. One day at show-n-tell, he asked, "What day is like a command? March fourth!" Then he marched forth with his chest thrown out and swinging his arms and lifting his knees up high. It was so cu-uuuu-uuute!

It's been 50 years. I should let it go. See also Chuckbert's Simple Grudge Index.

Happy March 4th