Ant Farm
By Simon Rich
IF LIFE WERE LIKE SCHOOL
JUDGE: In all my years on the bench, I have never seen a more despicable criminal. You robbed, assaulted, and tortured the victim simply for the thrill of it. Do you have anything to say in your defense before I sentence you?
CRIMINAL: Nope.
JUDGE: In that case, I hereby sentence you to forty years in a maximum security prison. I also sentence the victim to forty years in prison.
VICTIM: Wait-what? That doesn't make any sense! He attacked me!
JUDGE: I don't care who started it.
INTRODUCTION
ACTOR 1: Let’s face it . . . no matter how many times teachers or parents tell you that school is preparing you for “real life” . . . .
ACTOR 2: School is nothing like real life.
ACTOR 1: But just to prove our point, we’d like to take you for a walk down memory lane,
ACTOR 2: compliments of Simon Rich in this selection called Ant Farm.
SECOND GRADE REALIZATION
ME: Jake, come over here for a second. I need to talk to you about something.
JAKE: What's up?
ME: This is going to sound a little crazy. Oh well ... here goes. Do you remember when we were on the school bus last week and Ms. Higgins taught us that new game?
JAKE: You mean the Silent Game? Yeah, I remember. It was pretty cool of her to let us play games on the bus, huh?
ME: Well, yeah, that's what I thought at first. But then I started thinking about it. And now I'm not so sure.
JAKE: What do you mean?
ME: Well, just think about it. The Silent Game isn't actually fun. We don't do anything-we just kind of sit there. And nobody ever wins. It's always a tie.
JAKE: What are you saying?
ME: I don't think it's a real game. I think she just made it up to get us to be quiet.
JAKE: Oh my God. I think you're right.
ME: I can't believe we fell for it. We were silent for almost twenty minutes!
JAKE: We have to tell the class!
ME: What's the point? They'd never believe us.
JAKE: What about all the other games she taught us? The Politeness Game . . . the Respect Game . . . the Clean Up the Tables Game . . .
ME: What about them?
JAKE: Those might be fake too.
ME: Whoa. You just blew my mind.
JAKE: This has got to be the craziest day of my life.
A DAY AT UNICEF HEADQUARTERS AS I IMAGINED IT IN THIRD GRADE
[UNICEF sits on a throne. He is wearing a cape and holding a scepter. A servant enters, on his
knees.]
UNICEF: Halloween is fast approaching! Have the third graders been given their little orange boxes?
SERVANT: Yes, your majesty!
UNICEF: Perfect. Did you tell them what the money was for?
SERVANT: No, sir, of course not! We just gave them the boxes and told them to collect for UNICEF. We said it was for "a good cause," but we didn't get any more specific than that.
UNICEF: Ha ha hal Those fools! Soon I will have all the money in the world. For I am UNICEF, evil king of Halloween!
SERVANT: Sir . . . don't you think you've stolen enough from the children? Maybe you should let them keep the money this year?
UNICEF: Never! The children shall toil forever to serve my greed!
[UNICEF tears open a little orange box and rubs the coins all over his fat stomach.]
UNICEF: Yes! Oh, yes!
SERVANT: Wait-your majesty! Look at this! Our records indicate that there's a kid out there-Simon-who's planning to keep his UNICEF money this year.
UNICEF: What?!? But what about my evil plans? I was going to give that money to the Russians so they could build a bomb!
SERVANT: I guess there's still one hero left in this world.
UNICEF: Noooo! [Runs out of castle, sobbing.]
SERVANT: Thank God Simon is keeping his UNICEF money.
THE DAY I GOT MY FIRST CALCULATOR
TEACHER: All right, children, welcome to fourth grade math. Everybody take a calculator out of the bin.
ME: What are these?
TEACHER: From now on we'll be using calculators.
ME: What do these things do?
TEACHER: Simple operations, like multiplication and division.
ME: You mean this device just ... does them? By itself? TEACHER: Yes. You enter in the problem and press equal. ME: You ... you knew about this machine all along, didn't you? This whole time, while we were going through this ... this charade with the pencils and the line paper and the stupid multiplication tables! ... I'm sorry for shouting ... It's just ... I'm a little blown away.
TEACHER: Okay, everyone, today we're going to go over some word problems.
ME: What the hell else do you have back there? A magical pen that writes book reports by itself? Some kind of automatic social studies worksheet that ... that fills itself out? What the hell is going on?
TEACHER: If a farmer farms five acres of land a day
ME: SO that's it, then. The past three years have been a total farce. All this time I've been thinking, "Well, this is pretty hard and frustrating but I guess these are useful skills to have." Meanwhile, there was a whole bin of these things in your desk. We could have jumped straight to graphing. Unless, of course, there's some kind of graphing calculator!
TEACHER: There is. You get one in ninth grade.
ME: Is this ... Am I on TV? Is this a prank show?
ACTOR 1: Dear Mrs. Matthews,
I am writing to express my deepest sympathies. I shared your last note with Caleb's classmates and they made a card (which I have enclosed).
Ten funerals in three weeks is a lot to ask of any child, let alone a child like Caleb, who has already suffered so many family deaths this month. At first, as humiliating as it is to admit, I thought your son had forged the notes. But denial quickly gave way to grief. I understand he has another funeral to attend on Wednesday and that it will last until Friday. Please let him know that he can take as much time off as he needs. I would volunteer to drop off Caleb's homework myself, but I understand that your house recently exploded. Of all the tragedies that have befallen your family, this one saddened me the most. For a house to suddenly explode, without warning, destroying a child's backpack and books, is very upsetting, particularly in the midst of your High Voodoo Holidays.
ACTOR 2: I was also deeply saddened to learn that your son had suffered brain damage and could no longer complete his social studies assignments. To be hit with such a misfortune, on top of Tourette's, is a blow to any child's self-esteem, especially when that child is retarded.
ACTOR 1: Incidentally, I understand that Caleb has recently taken on some serious community service projects. I totally understand Caleb's devotion to the blind, particularly in light of his own blindness. But I'm worried that his extracurricular activities might interfere with his schoolwork, especially on top of the pressures of his upcoming Voodoo Bar Mitzvah. Of course, it's your decision.
ACTOR 2: I would also like to take this opportunity to congratulate you on your son's recent achievement! To be named an FBI super-spy at such a young age is an amazing accomplishment, particularly for a child who suffers from so
many varied forms of brain damage. He hasn't told me much about his mission, but from what I gather it sounds like an incredible opportunity. I'm going to miss his presence in the classroom next year, but it would be selfish of me to stand in his way. Caleb's country needs him more than I do. He belongs in Russia.
Rest assured: I haven't told anyone about Caleb's mission, not even the principal. I am honored that Caleb felt he could trust me with top secret information, and I would never betray that trust.
ACTOR 1: Godspeed, [Caleb’s teachers]
WHAT GOES THROUGH MY MIND WHEN I’M HOME ALONE (From My Mom’s Perspective)
Hmm, Mom left me home alone. Better go through the medicine cabinet and drink all the medicine for no reason. Wait, what's this? A note telling me not to "drink any medicines"? Thank God! I was about to do that. I was about to drink all the medicines and kill myself because I'm retarded.
Well, I better use the stove and then not turn it off. That way, I'll burn down the house and kill myself. Wait a minute. There's a note that says I should "turn off the stove after using it." Jesus Christ, that never would have occurred to me! Mom saved my life again, twice in one night.
Well, better throw things out the window, something I haven't done since I was seven. I'm fifteen years old, but I haven't matured at all. I still need to be reminded constantly about how to get through the day. What? A note? Guess I shouldn't "throw objects out the window" after all. There go my big plans.
Ah . . . dinnertime. There's a Tupperware container full of pasta in the fridge, but it's cold! How will I ever heat it up? I guess I'll just starve and die because I'm not competent enough to warm pasta. Whoa! A note telling me to put the container in the microwave and press EASY MINUTE! Thanks, note! You saved my life.
I hope that when my mom comes home she asks me some very specific, humiliating questions about my changing body.
SEX ED (note 1 actor plays Mr. Bender, 1 actor plays all students)
MR. BENDER: Okay class, now it's time to read one of your anonymous sex questions out loud. Here's one . . .
JONATHAN: Hey, Seymour, did you write that one? That looks like your handwriting.
SEYMOUR: Mr. Bender! Don't read it!
MR. BENDER: Please, no talking. It's very important that I answer this question. Whoever asked it is obviously incredibly confused about sex. These are not normal concerns. Not even close.
SETH: Hey, I bet that's Seymour's question. It's written in blue ink like all his homework assignments.
SEYMOUR: Oh, no!
MR. BENDER: Okay, let's see ... it's a seven-part question. The first part is about testicles.
SEYMOUR: Oh my God!
MR. BENDER: Quiet, class. We have to be fair to the boy who wrote this, even if we find his sexual desires morally reprehensible.
JONATHAN: Hey, I think that's Seymour's stationery. I can tell because of the watermark.
MR. BENDER: All right. I'm going to read the question now. But I have to warn you: It's pretty hard to take. If you feel like screaming, that's understandable. I'm probably going to do some screaming myself. It's that extreme. (Bell rings.)
SEYMOUR: That's the bell! Class dismissed!
MR. BENDER: Stay in your seats, everyone. If I don't answer this student's question and he continues to masturbate in the aberrant fashion he describes in part 3, he could permanently damage his body. Okay ... here it goes ... Jesus Christ, I can't read this out loud, it's too humiliating. Can I have a volunteer?
SEYMOUR: I'll read it! . . . Great! Um . . .okay . . . it says . . . What do you do if you are a . . . normal boy . . . with no really weird things.
SOURCE INFORMATION
Author: Simon Rich ISBN: 978-1400065882
Publisher: Random House Trade Paperbacks
Date (Month/Year): April 2007
AWARD HISTORY
2008 National Qualifier
2020 National Qualifier KS State Qualifier