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Dot!  Dot!  Dot!

The Adventure Continues

Theresa Perez

tmp96@yahoo.com


In some of our many trips to appointments, my father visits a retina specialist on a monthly basis.  Sometimes, I accompany them, but I usually remain in the front waiting area while my mother goes with Dad for the exam.  On one occasion, because my mother was not sure of the reasons why the doctor was prescribing certain medications and doing certain exams, I went to the exam room with them to find out.  Not knowing the routine, I just followed behind.  We were first shown into one exam room where the nurse asked all the routine questions and checked his vitals.  She put drops into one eye, being that it was
the one he has issues with.  Then the nurse put a dot sticker over that eye.  I suspect that it was placed there to be able to identify which eye the doctor needed to examine when the time came.  We were then escorted to another waiting area in the middle of the clinic to allow the eyedrops to take effect.  As we rounded the corner, there were several other patients, all with a dot over one eye or the other sitting in the long hallway.  A smile crept to my face at the sight of several geriatrics with brightly colored dots on their foreheads.  Their heads all bobbed up at once to look at us as we struggled to find three seats together, but we ended up dispersed among the dots.  I thought of my kids and wanted to call or text them about the dots.  However, there was a huge sign instructing that cell phones could not be in use.  I tried not to look up too much for fear of laughing or smiling too much.  I wasn’t amused so much at how they looked, but as to how the stickers gave a whole new meaning to the phrase: “Dot!  Dot!  Dot!”

  

When I was a sophomore in high school, we had a new gym teacher who was very pretty, very young and let’s just say, very rambunctious.  She was very good, and we all loved her.  She ended up teaching for over thirty years in our school district. However, she spent the second half of her teaching career as the elementary PE teacher.  She was Mrs. Rhodes, or “Ms. Rhodes,” as most of her former students remember her, including my kids.

 

In order to allow enough room for exercising between each student, Mrs. Rhodes had white dots, evenly spaced and permanently painted onto the gym
floor.  As a class entered the gymnasium, she would yell out, “Dot!  Dot!  Dot!”   The students knew exactly which dot was theirs.  As they all made their way to each assigned dot, she continued with “Dot!  Dot! Dot!,” until all students sat crossed-legged on the floor.  Heaven forbid if anyone was absent because one of the other students would always try to sit on the absentee’s dot.  Of course, there would be the chirping of kids all telling Ms. Rhodes that someone was sitting on the wrong dot.  Then, the reluctant offender would slowly get up and proceed to the correct dot.  As Ms. Rhodes proceeded with roll call, she expected all students to remain absolutely quiet so that all could hear their name being called.  My kids swear that she could hear any of them whisper in the back of the gym, because the minute she heard someone talking, she would bellow, “Who is talking?”  They recall now, with fond affection, how she would punish them if they misbehaved during PE.  Most kids are usually okay with sitting out of exercising.  However, when a student misbehaved during her class, Ms. Rhodes would send them to the wall.  “Hit the wall!”  This meant sitting crossed-legged on the bleachers facing the wall, so as not to be able to see what everyone else was doing.  What they were all doing was dancing to the sounds of Mickey Mouse playing on the turntable that she used to play the vinyl records on, or racing down the gym while bouncing on the big bouncy balls, or playing “Duck, Duck, Goose.”

  

Gym class comes to an end and the class files out.  Another class enters the gym. 


“Dot!  Dot! Dot!”


“Mr. Maldonado.”


I look up as the nurse guides my father to complete his exam.  I get up and follow the blue dot leaving all the other dots behind.

enough