“Who the heck is Spicoli?” I ask. “He’s off a movie,” he says and mumbles something about Ridgemont High and fast times. Photo: File

“Who the heck is Spicoli?” I ask. “He’s off a movie,” he says and mumbles something about Ridgemont High and fast times. Photo: File

Top Shelf Stories: “Who’s Spicoli?”

Many friends and readers may have heard a version of this one.

by Connor Jones

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Many friends and readers may have heard a version of this one.

It’s a doozy and one of the funnier moments over the years.

I’ve had my dad as a teacher a few times, and he’s a great teacher. There’s no way he reciprocates the same towards me as a math student but at least he’s my dad and he loves me.

I’m in 10th grade and my hormones are buzzing and I’m apparently growing. My huge lunch of three peanut butter sandwiches is normally gone by morning break at 10:30. Still awaiting that growth spurt though.

So by 12:30 I am starving and desperate for food. Most days I find my mom at her P.E. office to ask her for some extra change. No luck today, she’s in a meeting and her door is locked.

Last resort, I text Kellen, ‘Food?’

Being twins, I know he’s probably just as hungry as me and I know he’s downtown Trail. Maybe he can grab me something. One single almond would suffice at this point.

‘Got you.’ He replies.

by Connor Jones

by Connor Jones

Phew, saved by Kellen. I feel like I’m going to faint I’m so hungry.

I text him at 12:58. ‘Where are you?’

There’s no way I’m going to be able to survive Mr. Jones’ last period class. Oh my god, the boredom and the lack of food, I might actually pass out.

I show up to class a few minutes late as I was waiting for Kel by our lockers. Still no reply, where is he?

Ten minutes in with my stomach rumbling for all to hear I finally see him. He’s holding a bag of McDonald’s, the moron.

“How am I going to eat that?” I whisper out to him, luckily my desk is second from the door and my dad’s teaching at the white board on the other side of the room.

Dad turns quick and Kel jumps back, dad’s explaining y=mx+b and I have no idea what he’s talking about. Professor Jones turns back around then Kel, with unbelievable quickness and timing, plates a Quarter Pounder, French Fries, and a Diet Coke on my desk.

The presentation is incredible it looks like something off of a commercial. The cardboard Quarter Pounder case is half open and the French Fries are in the other side, ready to eat.

I grab one French fry and put it in my mouth. How could something taste so heavenly? I lean back and think to myself, then grab my Diet Coke to wash my glorious bite down.

I look up and realize the entire class along with my father/coach/teacher are staring at me. Maybe it was more of a glare than a stare. Professor Jones struts over to me, uh oh.

“As you all know, I don’t mind if you finish what is rest of your lunch to start class. But we will not be having any Spicoli like instances in this class.”

“Who the heck is Spicoli?” I ask.

“He’s off a movie.” He says and mumbles something about Ridgemont High and fast times.

I forget about that comment and watch as my dad grabs my fries and passes them out to the entire class, then miraculously cuts my QP into sixteen pieces for the class to share. Now there’s a fraction lesson eh? Another dumb thought of mine.

He finds cups for everyone, pours out tiny sips for all and then there’s nothing left.

“Thanks Connor for providing a small snack for everyone. Now let’s get back to some math.”

My lonesome French fry was all I deserved. What a fool, my flooding embarrassment overtook my hunger induced headache. But, a small win, my classmates seemed pretty happy after the salty afternoon treat. No more glares.

So who’s Spicoli?

He’s a character from the movie, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, who orders a full pizza to class just for himself. A lesson?

Don’t be Spicoli, eat your lunch at lunch, it’s rude to eat in front of your classmates.

Opinion