lesson learned

  Just a short anecdote this morning. I can't remember the year or the grade but this really happened to me. We were studying the Indians of the southwest, that was before they were native Americans, and in particular the Pueblo Indians. I admit to not remembering much about them all these years later and having no desire to research will just continue with what I do remember. These Indians lived in houses built out of adobe. The main characteristic being poles sticking out that supported the other floors and the roof. That's what I recall anyway. There were ladders leaning against the walls to reach those upper floors the Indians apparently not building stairs for some reason. Maybe as a defensive measure? Anyway, that's what I remember.

 In class we were given an assignment and mine was to build a pueblo. It was to be a diorama. I was excited about that. Now, my father was a builder. I felt like he could do anything in that regard and enlisted his help. I was sent into the woods to get some "logs" before we could begin construction. I left with a small handsaw in search of suitable branches. I was advised to find some that had been lying on the ground for a while so they were be dry, cured is what Dad said. It didn't take long to find what I needed. I had read where the Pueblo Indians used mud and straw to make that adobe. Dad said we would use paper Mache instead. I was then told to cut that newspaper into strips about two inches wide. a lot of strips. Dad would be back when I was done with that. Seemed like that took forever and I was anxious to get building! My father comes back with a big cardboard box. I wondered what we were going to do with that. I was informed that box would be cut and taped to form the framework for a pueblo. You had to have something to support that " adobe" we were going to make, you can't just pile it straight up you know. So, after measuring and cutting it out it was taped together and the making of the paper Mache began. My mother was in charge of that, I guess because women know about using flour, the main ingredient in that mixture. Piece by piece those strips of paper mache were applied to the cardboard, the "logs" placed in-between layers and sticking out the ends. We had added some color to that mixture and it really looked like dirt. This was going to be great!

 When my adobe was completed and the diorama constructed it really looked great, I was going to get an A for this , for sure. Dad said the paper mache needed to dry to be really sturdy. He thought the best place to dry that would be next to the furnace in the basement. Ours was a half basement and the furnace sat close to one wall. That wall did not reach all the way to the top, that is to say the floor above. It rose about five foot or so and on the back side it was dirt. It was on that dirt that I sat my diorama, a masterpiece of engineering for sure. It was placed there on a Friday night, the weekend should provide plenty of time to thoroughly dry. I didn't pay any attention to that until Monday morning when it was time to go to school. I went down to the basement to get that project only to discover it had been destroyed! Grabbing it I brought it upstairs and placed it on the kitchen table. A good portion of that adobe building was missing and the remainder looked more like ruins than an actual pueblo. Something had eaten it! Dad says it was more than likely a mouse, or several of them anyway, maybe even a rat! Mom starts hollering at Dad to get some mousetraps and take care of that right away. I'm upset my project is destroyed and my siblings are laughing at me. Not a good day. 

 I did get calmed down and went to school that day. When asked where my project was I tried to explain it to the teacher. To say she was skeptical would be an understatement. She did say she knew dogs often ate homework, but a hoard of mice was a new one. The other kids were all laughing at me but I was telling the truth! I can't remember if I ever made another or what the result was. I just remember those laughing and me being upset about that. No, it hasn't left me traumatized for life, just left me with an amusing anecdote. No counselors required, no therapy, just a lesson learned. Don't put paper mache in the basement.