Sam Venable 

Department of Irony

Somewhere in the great beyond, Geneva Anderson is having a conniption fit. It will be in a ladylike manner, of course. At least as ladylike a fit—conniption, hissy or otherwise—as can be had, for Geneva Anderson was Miss Manners personified.

Nonetheless, I pity the fool who’s dealing with her right now.

It’s all because of research recently conducted at the Baylor College of Medicine. According to this study, children who chew gum make better grades than non-chewers— up to three percent better, in standardized tests. (The project was funded by the Wrigley Science Institute. Yes, that Wrigley, making me scratch my head, if not my jaw, about questions of credibility. You are free to harrumph and raise eyebrows as well.)

In any event, Dr. Craig Johnson, author of the report, believes the physical act of chewing improves concentration. As he told the Los Angeles Times: “There is research demonstrating an increase in blood flow in the brain during chewing.”

Bully for the Baylor College of Medicine and Doc Johnson. They may cite statistics to their collective hearts’ content. But I’ll double-dog—or Doublemint, as the case may be—guarantee Miss Anderson would have none of it. Period!

Miss Anderson was my senior English teacher at Young High School. Both she and the school are no longer of this realm. Young closed its doors in 1976 after 63 years of continuous service to South Knox Countians. Miss Anderson enjoyed an even longer run; she was 79 at the time of her death in 1983.

Let me state unequivocally that here was the finest teacher I encountered through elementary school, high school, and college. She was challenging and demanding, a stickler for detail, precisely the sort of tutor most students would immediately despise. But her classes were such fun and so lively, you forgot work was involved. What’s more, I will forever love her for planting the first thought in my brain that writing, not forestry, was my life’s calling.

As delightful as Miss Anderson could be, however, there was one certain way to turn her warm demeanor into snow-covered granite.

“Now, cherubs,” she would abruptly announce, “someone in this class is chewing gum. We will stop our lesson until the matter is resolved.”

Then she would affix a laser stare until the miscreant rose from his or her desk, traversed the Bataan Death March to the nearest trash can, and made a minor deposit.

I know this sounds outrageous in today’s battlefield classroom environment, but trust me: A stare was all Miss Anderson needed to restore order. I swear her blue eyes could bore holes through steel plate. Once Miss Anderson locked onto That Look, she could tame a tornado. As I wrote in an obituary column shortly after her death, “If you were never stared at by Geneva Anderson when she was in a testy mood, you never experienced primal fear.”

I wish nothing but the best for Doc Johnson and his colleagues at Baylor College of Medicine. May they prosper and chart new educational horizons. But they better enjoy it, and their Bubblicious, while they can.

Because once they cross the river and come eyeball to eyeball with Saint Geneva, there’s going to be hell to pay.

Sam Venable is an author, stand-up comedian, and humor columnist for the Knoxville (TN) News Sentinel. He may be reached at sam.venable@outlook.com.