I don't know if I've told this one before. I was reminded of it yesterday when a friend came by and mentioned that her daughter had been stung by a bee for the first time in her life. I quickly dug out my copy of Clan Apis to loan to the girl, and then retold my "bees" story. I also suggested that their family visit Jay Hosler's Website and check out his Killer Bee Story. If you haven't read Clan Apis, follow my link above to buy yourself a copy. You won't regret it.
As for me, here's my story about the bees:
When I think of my youth and all the adventures I've had, one stands out above the rest. When I graduated from High School, a group of my friends held a party for everyone who had started school together and gone to the same schools up through the years. We invited back many of the teachers who had to put up with our antics, and we had a great party. At some point during the event, a group of us went up to our old Fourth Grade teacher and said, "Mrs. Symes, do you remember THE BEES?"
A childhood incident, remembered by Laura Gjovaag
I had been anticipating the field trip for weeks. We were going to go out on Puget Sound, in a ferry, and visit the islands. It was a science trip, and I was really looking forward to a long hike in a beautiful forest. Indeed, I was looking forward to it a little too much, because my young heart was shattered when the teacher sadly announced that the trip had been canceled due to the weather. I even begged to go anyway, declaring that I was ready for mud or rain or anything! But no, instead of a field trip, we got a normal day of classes.
To make up for the missed trip, Mrs. Symes decided to take each science class up into the wooded area behind the school and do as much of the unit as possible in our own backyard. I had science late in the day, and remember the long walk up the hill into the woods. Still suffering from disappointment, I lagged behind the class kicking at the grass and being generally sulky.
Suddenly I heard yelling and screaming from the class up ahead. Pelting past me towards the school building came classmate after classmate as I stood in dumb shock. One of them, running by, yelled "BEES!!!!!!" and suddenly I was running too, down the embankment toward the classroom as fast as my legs could carry me. Remembering that run, I swear I was flying, I went so fast. When I reached the classroom with a couple of other classmates, we tried to get in but the door was blocked by students who had run faster. "Don't let them in!" they screamed, and I realized abruptly that there were several bees swarming around us angrily.
Maplewood Heights Elementary School had an odd setup of buildings. Every classroom had an outside door and an inside door, as did every bathroom. The classes were arranged in an oval around a central area that was "teachers only", so we usually didn't think about getting into a classroom through the inside. Today, however, we were desperate, and when someone suggested the bathrooms in a panic, we all dashed toward hopeful freedom from the buzzing danger around us. Into the bathrooms we went, into the teachers area from there, and into the classroom... almost. The other fourth grade teacher, Mrs Matthews, noticed us pelting in, and had heard the commotion from next door, and confronted us as we stood outside the door, in full view of the other class.
"Bees!" I said.
"Bees!" agreed my classmates.
"Bees?" said Mrs. Matthews, as her class erupted into chaos and amusement. One of my classmates nodded and gasped, "More bees than I've ever seen! They were a cloud! We ran!" Just then, a bee zipped past us into the classroom, then out again. Mrs. Matthews said something to her class, then ushered us into our own classroom, where panic ruled completely.
"SIT DOWN!" she said in a teacher voice that I can't forget. "DON'T MOVE!" We sat. The students blocking the door sat. More panicky students entered the room, some crying. They sat. A school janitor, who often came around and cleaned late in the day came into the room and had a quick conference with Mrs. Matthews. The next few minutes are jumbled in my mind. More students came in, and with them came bees. The janitor watched us while Mrs. Matthews got help.
Then the janitor, a HUGE black man, who was that day the most beautiful man in the entire world, told us all the sit very still like statues. With a rolled-up newspaper he hunted down the angry bees
one
by
one,
and one by one took care of them. The last bee landed on my desk, right in front of me, and WHAM! the last bee lay dead on the desk until he gently picked it up with a cloth.
Sometime during that dramatic hunt, Mrs. Symes returned. She had taken all the students who had been stung to the office. When the threat was gone, she explained to us that when bees swarm the best thing you can do is stand very still so they don't think you are a threat. She described, so vividly that I can almost see it to this day, how she stood still, and s-l-o-w-l-y wiped the bees off her face and arm. And how she did that for the other students around her who had followed her lead. My skin still crawls at the thought.
Jennifer got stung fifteen times, and was sick for awhile. We were lucky. None of the students who were stung had a severe reaction. David, who had stepped in the bees nest in the first place, didn't get stung. Some of my fellow students described it like this: David stepped in a hole, and pulled his foot out and continued walking. The students walking behind him heard a very loud hum, then a dark cloud erupted from the hole. It took a moment to register, but when it did people panicked and ran, except for the teacher and a couple others. But even the students who hadn't been in the core group, who hadn't seen it with their own eyes, like me, still remember the Bees.
And so we come to that day, many years later, when we asked Mrs. Symes if she remembered... her eyes got big and the expression on her face told the story again for us. We laughed together. Who could forget?
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