Long Live My Embarrassment

The following is one account of the mortifying events that took place at an undisclosed hockey game many years ago. This story has been passed along by others and is now infamous at Pleasant Grove Junior High School – retold every year as a legendary misfortunate incident. The events are typically recanted by a choir teacher, and spreads through the hallways amidst gasps and giggles. Many of those students are not aware that I, Sarah Parson, was right in the middle of it all. This is my story.

I was in 8th grade, a truly horrific time of any adolescents’ life. My friends and I typically spent our lunch hour eating in the choir room, hiding from the gossip and judgement circulating the school cafeteria. Choir was our favorite class and Mr. Matthews was our favorite teacher.

One fateful day, our choir class took a field trip to sing the national anthem at a hockey game. We all carefully walked onto the ice in our matching black dresses and hand-me-down flats. The lights were off, a spotlight shining on us. Goosebumps appeared on our skin from the coolness of the ice. Mr. Matthews raised his arms, and we began to belt out our well-rehearsed national anthem.

You might think the tragedy that struck that day came as someone slipped on the ice, but we all did what we came to do and made it off safely. What happened was far worse than a slip on the ice.

We all got to stay and watch the game. Most of us were less interested in the game than we were in the fact that we didn’t have to be in school. I sat down with Maddison to my right, Emma to my left, and Mr. Matthews on her left. We talked and we laughed, paying no attention to the game, which was at this moment paused in-between quarters. I was looking at my phone, probably texting a boy who was back at the school. Suddenly, Maddison dived from her chair into the empty aisle beside her. Bewildered, I turned to Emma, only to see her scrambling over the top of her chair. It was as if she was trying to part the chairs behind us and disappear into the red sea. I felt a pit in my stomach as it finally dawned on me. My head whipped up to the Megatron and I was horrified to see that all four of us had been displayed on the kiss cam, only with my friends having escaped from view, it was now just Mr. Matthews and I. My skin felt hot as embarrassment flooded my body. My eyes widened and my hands lifted to my mouth to suppress a silent scream, and just like that, we disappeared from the screen.

Mr. Matthews was hiding his face in his hands. All my peers were looking up at us from their seats below as they laughed and commented to one another, presumably about the “weird choir girls” and “how embarrassing for them”. I attempted to melt into my seat as I wondered what turd of a cameraman thought it would be funny to put a teacher and his students on the kiss cam.

If only God had settled for letting me slip on the ice. Maybe I would’ve hit my head and died, at least then people from my school wouldn’t see my tombstone and remember me as the girl who was caught on the kiss cam with the choir teacher.

Seven years later, my little sister sat in choir class as Mr. Matthews told the horrific story of the kiss cam incident as he has who knows how many times before. My sister listened and told her friends, “That was my sister”.

Long live my embarrassment.