Show-and-tell 1970s Style

The venerable show-and-tell was a great way to get students comfortable with public speaking but likely should not have been carried over to high-school, as one novice teacher found out.

Robert (Bob) MacIntosh and his pal Jack MacIssac had already endured a mind-numbing procession of classmates’ exposition and demonstration on a number of uninteresting objects commonly found in rural Cape Breton in the early 1970s. Things like clay-forks, manual meat grinders, reversible kitchen aprons, etc., just did not stimulate them or keep their attention, so they prepared their little demo to liven things up a bit.

Denise, their Grade XI teacher, was a neophyte having just graduated with her teacher’s license the previous spring, so she had been in the job a total of six weeks, and her nervousness around the students was palpable. To her credit she was a humanistic counterbalance to the ‘crows,’ the nuns who also taught at the high school from the ironically named order Sisters of Mercy. They did not show much mercy to their coal town charges–it was one thing to be put out of class for misbehaving, and yet another thing to be put out there through the wall. The boys would have never tried to liven things up with the crows, but Denise seemed like she could take a joke.

“Robert MacIntosh and Jack MacIssac, you’re next,” said Denise from her desk at the back of the classroom.

Robert and Jack slowly ambled up to the front of the class with their presentation wrapped in brown paper, and without unwrapping the item, Robert started the presentation.

“Good afternoon Miss, class.” A concurrent medley of “good afternoon//sit-down//sum-up” came back from the class. Undeterred, Robert continued.

“Every year we hear about people getting shot in the woods during hunting season, so Jack and I are going to show and tell how this can be prevented. Jack. . .” said Robert, gesturing to Jack who was holding the object.

With that intro, Jack whipped off the brown paper and let it drift to the floor in a rather theatrical flourish to show the class a rifle. A collective gasp went up from the class and Denise, who started moving towards the front of the class.

“What the f–what are you doing with that in here?” said Denise, stumbling to the front in her last few steps.

“Don’t worry Miss, it isn’t loaded. Jack and I are expert hunters and we are going to go over the safety precautions, so youse have nothing to worry about.”

“No, I really don’t feel good about this Robert, are you sure you guys know what you are doing?”

“Yes Miss,” said Jack, “We’ve been at this a long time, and these guns are all over the place ’round here at this time of year. Nothing is going to happen with an empty rifle.”

“I really don’t like this, but go ahead,” said Denise, capitulating.

“Thanks Miss,” said Robert, taking the rifle from Jack’s hands, and launching into his spiel.

“This here is a single-shot bolt action 22-calibre rifle that belonged to my father before he gave it to me. You can tell it’s old by looking at how worn it is. We mostly use it for hunting rabbits.”

Unlike the previous presenters, Robert and Jack had Denise’s and the class’s attention. Denise looked a tad pale, but she didn’t stop them. Robert click-clacked the bolt open and closed a few times for effect. Turning sideways so that the bolt and breach opening were away from the class Robert demonstrated how to hold it at the shoulder firing position.

“One of the most basic things we learn when we are being taught how to use a rifle and to hunt is to never ever point the rifle at another person–ever.”

As Robert was explaining, Jack made his way to the far end at the front of the class behind Robert. Robert click-clacked the bolt a few more times while pretending to aim at the far wall in front of him. Each time he squeezed the trigger, the firing pin made a harmless click as it shot forward into the empty breach. Before he took the rifle down from his shoulder, he slipped in a 22 blank as he closed the bolt for the last time.

“The other important thing to remember, besides never pointing a rifle at anyone, is to be sure of what you are shooting at–that’s why we all wear orange in the woods so we can be seen by other hunters,” said Robert.

Robert turned to face Jack while continuing, “Lets pretend Jack is just a guy walking in the woods without any orange, and I’m a hunter who thinks he can hear a deer cracking twigs as it makes its way towards him.”

Jack slowly started walking towards the back of the class, while Robert pretended to be listening intently while raising the rifle in Jack’s general direction. Jack feigned a stumble and Robert zeroed in on him and fired without hesitation.

The crack from the blank round was deafening in the confined classroom, but it was likely just as loud as the collective scream from Denise and all the students. With the bang and puff of smoke, Jack fell to the floor like a stone and lay there motionless with arms and legs splayed where he fell. Some of the girls were crying and one of the guys vomited. Robert made his way over to Jack, just as the classroom door flew open.

Mr. Jackson, the principal, stuck his head in the door. “What’s all the commotion Denise, I heard screaming?”

“Nuh-nuh-nothing is going on Mr. Jackson, everything is under control,” Denise managed to get out while gently pushing the principal back to the hallway. During all this, Jack lay motionless on the floor.

“Come on you fucker, get up!” said Robert, now standing over the ‘body’. Jack remained lifeless. Denise ran up alongside Robert.

“How did you shoot him with an empty gun?” asked Denise. She was starting to wobble as the colour completely drained from her face. Some of the guys came closer for a better look–stuff like this does not happen every day. Most of the girls were wailing but stayed in their seats.

“He’s not shot, the fucker. . . come on Jack, get the fuck up, you’re scaring everyone.”

Jack didn’t move, so Robert gave him a poke in the ribs with the rifle barrel. Seeing that Jack was lifeless, Denise started crying and collapsed to her knees on the floor.

With that, Jack shot to his feet, and as calmly as if he were reciting poetry concluded, “And that there is why we has to know safety precautions when handling rifles and stuff, any questions?”

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