Spencer, we knew you too well

There was a guy named Spencer who was supposed to show up for this job, but never did. We found a replacement, but many of us still wondered what Spencer would have been like if he had indeed made an appearance. We speculated that Spencer was perhaps the coolest person to have ever lived upon the earth, making Chuck Norris seem like James Lipton.

With this idea in mind, I teamed up with a co-worker of mine to create a class based on the life of Spencer, because anyone can lead a game of dodgeball or make some crafts out of beads and string, but it takes a special breed to create a curriculum based on a person you've never met before. We entitled it "Spencer: Demi-god or RA?"

After an hour or so of prep work, we stood in front of 30 kids and divulged the life of Spencer in the forms of graphs, timelines, and visual aids. We weaved the story of how Spencer was born in Manitoba on July 3, 1974, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a keen sense of smell. We told how at the age of four, he ran away from home, went north, killed a polar bear with an exacto knife, and then mothered her two cubs. We showed an artist's impression of the mother and cubs and of what Spencer might have looked like when he broke out of jail at the age of 6, and then talked about the myriad of songs that had been influenced by/written about him. How in Journey's "Don't Stop Believin,'" he was that 'city boy,' and how he had baked the original 'American Pie,' and that Bon Jovi was singing to Spencer when he said "You give love a bad name."

We also tried to show a softer side of Spencer, one that we felt the public rarely gets to see. We drew up Spencer's Top 20 list of things that make him cry: puppies that get hit by semis, the Olsen twins, the king or queen of spades, when she calls, when she doesn't, and my personal favorite: senators from states with odd-numbered amounts of letters.

We used poems, personal stories, and a barrage of other educational techniques to fit as much quality learning time as possible in the matter of one hour, without ever divulging who Spencer really is or why we are even talking about him in the first place.

The kids loved it. When class was over, they clapped. One kid even came up to us and gave us each a hug.

Needless to say, we combined our minds once again for the next part in the series, called "Advanced Spencerology," which focused more on the charts and graphs of Spencer's life. It was well received. I think one of my personal favorite moments was when, towards the end of the class during the Q and A session, one kid raised his hand and asked, "So, who is Spencer?"

Our third and final class will be coming up next week, where we will give the kids a test, have them write letters to Spencer, and inundate them with even more timelines, charts, poems, and graphs.

If you've never done my job before, it's tough to understand most of what I just wrote and how it really fits in to taking care of kids. So, all I can ask is that you consider this: when I gave a copy of the following poem (which I had read aloud at the end of class) to a girl who had attended Advanced Spencerology, she almost peed her pants with delight.

Did Spencer invent us, or did we invent Spencer?

A poem

Spencer, Spencer, the polar bear killer,

Mother of 2.

How did you start, you talented youth?

Where is the beginning? Where, the truth?

We exist, and you do too.

How can we succumb to this awesome feat?

By showing our stars in troubled sleep?

Where did thine power, from whence thou didst frow?

Where is the butter, of old moo cow?

Where the shame of sheep covered seat?

Memory foam laden, gentle behind?*

We created thine lustrious art. Spencer destructed,*

Infinite loop.

*(These two lines refer to Gentleness, the first level of Spencerocity, which is clearly seen in the fact that on Spencer's motorcycle, his seat is covered with sheepskin and has a four inch layer of memory foam underneath.)