Article by Greg Jaklewicz
A Gloomy Morning
It was a dark and stormy night.
Well, it would’ve been if it wasn’t almost 11 a.m.
It was charcoal gray outside and not exactly stormy. A fine mist left droplets of moisture everywhere.
Derek Jones, the second-year music teacher at Wylie West Junior High, was his usual cheery self despite the gloomy fall day.
Derek never has met a cloudy day. He lives in the sunshine.
You might even say he glows. Right, Rudolph?
Certainly mild-mannered.
His students love him. Students think his classes are fun, even if they are learning something. Derek knows his stuff. Evidently, lifelong music experience and paying big bucks for a bang-up Baylor education have paid off.
He was honored as a first-year teacher.
But Derek Jones has a secret.
One that he hopes never interferes with his classes.
Today, however, that secret could be in jeopardy.
Big Trouble in Wylieville
The Wylie West campus lies on the north side of FM 707, a rural road that rides along the Abilene city limits.
Traffic ranges from moms in hybrid SUVs to big guys driving big trucks—cement mixers, gravel-filled trailers, and farm animals.
And this is what happened.
A car pulled out of a church parking lot, not as quickly as the driver had planned. The tires, a little worn, spun on the pavement. And that cattle truck coming east was coming quick.
The car struggled to hit the speed limit, and the truck driver braked.
His tires, however, were a bit bald, too.
The truck skidded and the cab and trailer chose to go separate directions. The cab, going left, stayed on the road—but sideways. The trailer, filled with bawling and bouncing Black Angus bodies, went right.
The trailer broke free, skidded some more, then turned over onto its side.
But not before knocking down three mailboxes, two rolling trash bins, and a “Trump ‘28” sign.
The cattle were not happy. As if they would be, headed to the feedlot for a pre-determined fate.
Maybe the cattle, a little shaken up and some with four legs in the air, were OK with the sudden turn of events—with the delay in their day.
Regardless, it was a mess.
The cab was blocking the road, and the fuel line was ruptured. The puddles on the road were not water but a spark away from creating a fire lake.
Call to Duty
Meanwhile, in the music room in Building 1, Derek Jones senses a disturbance in the force. Even if that’s from another movie.
He was teaching his class of girls “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” preparing them for the upcoming Christmas concert.
His attention was diverted from their wonderful youthful tones to what was going on outside. His window is covered by a thick drape but he can see the wreck.
Derek Jones has X-ray vision. He can see through the brick walls of the school. He even can see through today’s political muck.
There is one other person in on his secret. She works in the front office, which has windows. It’s Mrs. Jones, his mom, and she knows what to do.
“Pardon the interruption, Mr. Jones, can you come to the office? We’ll have someone take your class.”
The students look puzzled, but this has happened before. On occasion, the teacher, not a student, is called from the room. Why?
Inquiring middle school minds raced.
“This is, like, six, seven times, Mr. Jones,” one girl commented.
“Six-seven,” the girls sang out in unison.
At least they got the notes right, Mr. Jones thought.
SUPERMAN!
Derek Jones slipped into a custodian’s closet—the one with the hidden exit to outside.
He found what he was looking for behind the stack of boxes containing trash bags.
Quickly he slipped on the bright blue suit, the one recognized worldwide.
The one with the big red “S” on the front.
He looked in a small mirror—not bad, he thought, smiling—and unfolded his red cape. Bro, he thought, this really needs to get to the cleaners.
Cut the John Williams movie theme music. And he was off.
Faster than a speeding train and more powerful than a locomotive.
As cars slowed to a stop and law enforcement responded to 9-1-1 calls, Superman was at the scene.
First, he made sure that the truck driver was OK. Big Al was shaken up, a little damp, and just a bit annoyed at the driver of the car. And he couldn’t find his winning lottery ticket.
Next, Superman sized up the wreck.
The scene was loud and messy and not very fragrant. Superman has a great sense of smell, but also a quick gag reflex. This was not the time to ralph. Good thing lunch was next period.
He effortlessly lifted the trailer above his head and set it upright. The cattle enjoyed the thrill ride and mooed their delight.
Superman reattached the trailer to the cab, and Big Al fired up the engine.
Superman then bounded to the car driver.
“Sir, on a rain-slick road, you should not try to pull in front of another vehicle, especially one 10 times bigger,” Superman said.
The driver looked up sheepishly at Superman.
“Sorry, Superman. I learned my lesson,” he said, eyes downcast. Then he brightened. “Can we take a selfie?”
Superman self-consciously raked his black hair, now wet. Why didn’t Superman wear some sort of headgear, like Ironman? He was a little jealous of that guy’s get-up.
“And,” Superman added, “Michelins are great tires. Right now, buy three and get the fourth free.”
The traffic dispersed—slowly, of course. Everyone had to take a video to post later.
Law enforcement arrived to clear the scene and to clean up.
Deputy Dawgmier tipped his hat at Superman.
Superman saluted back.
Back to His Day Job
The substitute teacher was tired of singing the same song for the 78th time when Mr. Jones reappeared in the room.
“Where were you?” the always inquisitive student with dark curls asked.
“Business to take care of,” Mr. Jones said.
“What kind of business… like, bathroom business?” the student pressed.
Snickers (and not the candy).
Mr. Jones, ever cheerful, laughed his cheerful laugh.
“OK, how about learning a Christmas song that we can really… sleigh,” he said, sorting his music as he sat at the piano. Smiling.
No one laughed.
Dad jokes were always his kryptonite.