She has a difficult time owning up to her own crazy self.

When Ellen was in Mrs Smith’s kindergarten class, she decided on her path in life.

“I’m going to be a zoo attendant,” she proudly stated and the entire class of 6 year olds looked at each other and then naturally wanted to know what an attendant was. Zoo, they knew. Attendant they didn’t.

Mrs Smith pondered the question she had been asked for a few minutes before answering. “What Ellen is saying class,” she began forcing a smile where no smile should’ve been forced, “is that,” she continued, “when she grows up she wants to work in a zoo as an attendant.” Well, that didn’t go very well. The entire class of 6 year olds looked at each other as if the teacher was crazy.

“But Mrs Smith, that’s what we asked you. What’s an attendant.”
“Oh!” replied Mrs Smith letting out a half laugh, “oh I see you don’t understand what an attendant is.” Again, the entire class looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

Gordon spoke up. “Mrs Smith, what does an attendant do at a zoo?” Now she understood. “Well, they generally clean out the cages and make sure that the animals have food and things like that.”
Rita, the little fiery red haired girl who had a temper to match, and most of the time sat at her own table in the dining hall because her classmates were never sure what side of the bed she woke up, stood up, rolled her eyes smiled at Mrs Smith, where no smile should’ve been allowed and took a deep breath. “Mrs Smith, question please.”
Mrs Smith turned to face her nightmare.

Every evening when Mrs Smith arrived home, the first thing she would do even before saying hi to her husband or children, was to have a tall glass of brandy. Then after breathing out the fire, she gave her husband a kiss, which made him cough and her children ran away from her.

“I guess Rita said something stupid,” her husband Mark remarked.

“Never say stupid,” replied Mrs Smith, “just say insane.” Her husband knew better and smiled where no smile was warranted.

Anyway, back to the class. It was only 10am and Mrs Smith knew it was going to be a very long day. “Yes, Rita?” asked Mrs Smith wishing she had a bottle of potent Napoleon brandy in one her draws.

“Mrs Smith, if Ellen wants to do that, clean out the cages and get them their food, surely she would end up being the food.”
Mrs Smith thought about the riddle that had been posed and the longer she thought about it, the worse her headache became. “School’s over!” she shouted and everyone in the class looked at her, and those who had snuck in mobile phones against school regulations like Rita and Gordon looked at their screens and shrugged. They knew better.

Needless to say, things went down hill very fast from there.

When the principal, Mr Ogre, noticed the children waiting for a bus to arrive, also noticed it was only 10am, he sent out his deputy to find out what was going on. He came rushing back in. “It’s Mrs Smith’s class!” he called out and everyone in the front office groaned.

“Ok,” replied Mr Ogre, “let them wait out there for the next 6 hours. That should be fun. But also send in Mrs Smith.”
Mrs Smith knocked on Mr Ogre’s door and smiled, when there was no smile warranted. “Tough night?” he asked her.

“Very tough,” she agreed.

“No brandy at home?”

“No, plenty of brandy at home, but my husband has locked it up.”
“Oh,” replied Mr Ogre looking worried, “why is that?”
“He says he doesn’t like being kissed by someone who smells like a liquor cabinet.” They all laughed, except of course for Mrs Smith.

“Ok Mrs Smith,” began Mr Ogre once the entire office had wiped their eyes and in some cases cleaned the snot off their desks, “I have a deal for you. If you go outside and get all the children back in class, I will make sure you have a bottle of brandy in your classroom drawer.” “Promise?” she asked.

“Promise,” he replied and Mrs Smith began to run out of the office but stopped and came back.

“I only drink Napoleon brandy,” she added.

“Nappy it is,” answered Mr Ogre rolling his eyes.

“That was crazy,” said his secretary, Ms Turtle.

The deputy principal, Mr Haggard agreed. “What happens if one of the kids drinks the brandy?”
“Now that would be funny to watch,” replied Mr Ogre unseriously, but then added in a slight panic. “I have a better idea. Tell Mrs Smith she has to come into the office to drink her brandy.”
“Good idea,” replied Mr Haggard wondering if he could still attend Alcoholics Anonymous and claim to be sober, when he would be in charge of the brandy. No one else in the office knew he was an alcoholic.

Anyway, they watched Mrs Smith gather up her class using the excuse that her watch runs very fast, “too fast sometimes,” she laughed as the children looking forlorn followed her back into the classroom just in time for the bell to ring for the end of the class.

As soon as the class had left the room, she opened all her drawers one by one looking for brandy she had been promised.

“No, it hasn’t been bought yet. We will do that tomorrow,” replied Mrs Turtle, “and by the way, Mr Ogre said it’s best to keep it locked up in the office. So, you’ll have to come here for your daily drink.”
That was fine with Mrs Smith, who as she was walking out of the office turned and added “Napoleon brandy, correct?”
“Correct!” replied everyone.

“Only the best,” replied Mr Haggard. Then once she had left and closed the door behind her, the entire office groaned and collapsed further back in their chairs.

“How many days before summer break?” someone asked.

“I don’t know,” replied another, “but I need a drink.”

That statement was met with a sheer sense of panic. And then they heard the principal call out from his ornate office whose walls were covered with photographs of his twenty children and five wives, but not all at once he assured people, just in succession, “I think she has a great deal of difficulty owning up to her own crazy self, even though she’s a terrific teacher and the parents love her.” That was met with an enthusiastic round of applause and then they returned to their work.