At Brightbridge Middle School, there was one class students feared more than math quizzes and cafeteria burritos: Life Skills with Ms. Tilly Tangle.
Ms. Tangle was a whirlwind of enthusiasm wrapped in cardigans that looked knitted by hyperactive rainbows. She believed that everyday survival was the greatest adventure of all—unfortunately, her lessons usually ended with at least one fire alarm, three confused students, and a goldfish somehow involved.
One Monday morning, Ms. Tangle burst into class carrying an overflowing laundry basket.
“Today,” she announced proudly, “we master the art of chores! Life skills are essential! Without them, civilization collapses, socks vanish, and refrigerators grow mushroom colonies!”
The class shifted uneasily.
She pulled out a shirt that was so wrinkled it looked like it had gone through emotional trauma. “Lesson one: ironing!”
She plugged in the iron. It began making a sound that irons should never make—a cross between a growl and a hiccup.
Before Ms. Tangle could address the noise, the shirt suddenly launched upward like a frightened pigeon. The class gasped.
“Oh! Extra steam power!” she declared cheerfully. “Science at work!”
Next, Ms. Tangle wheeled in a vacuum cleaner the size of a small rhinoceros.
“This,” she said, patting it lovingly, “is Vacuumius Maximus. Today we learn how to clean floors!”
She switched it on.
It roared to life like it planned to inhale the entire school. Papers disappeared. A shoelace vanished. Jimmy from row two barely escaped with his socks.
“Marvelous suction!” Ms. Tangle shouted over the chaos. “Excellent for tidying!”
Someone screamed, “It’s eating my homework!”
The vacuum burped.
Moving on—as though nothing unusual had happened—Ms. Tangle clapped her hands. “Now we practice communication skills! Good communication prevents arguments, misunderstandings, and unnecessary household wrestling over remote controls.”
She handed out worksheets that read:
Step 1: Listen
Step 2: Understand
Step 3: Try not to panic
Step 4: Use your words, not interpretive dance
“For example,” she said to Oliver, “if someone forgets to do the dishes, how do we respond?”
Oliver shrugged. “Tell them to do the dishes?”
“Correct!” she said. “But with kindness.”
Oliver tried again. “Please… do the dishes… or I will cry.”
“Beautiful!” Ms. Tangle beamed. “Emotional honesty!”
By now the students were laughing, taking notes, and avoiding eye contact with the suspiciously hungry vacuum.
For the final lesson, Ms. Tangle revealed a glittery poster labeled:
LIFE SKILL #43: ASK FOR HELP WHEN YOU NEED IT
“Whether you’re stuck on a chore, overwhelmed by laundry, or trapped in a conversation with a malfunctioning appliance—ask for help!” she said proudly.
Right on cue, the iron sputtered smoke, the vacuum rolled ominously toward the door, and Ms. Tangle smiled.
“Class,” she said calmly, “I need help.”
And for the first time in Life Skills history, the students successfully solved a problem without anything catching fire.
Mostly.
