A Calculated Threat

January 2, 1977.

Same as most Januarys, we returned to school on my birthday. What was different about this year, though, was what I brought with me to school that day. My most prized possession – a brand new, handheld, electronic, Texas Instruments TI-1250 calculator. With memory.

My sisters gave it to me for Christmas.

What in the world made this right-brained, numbers-challenged kid ask for such a gift? I can’t answer that, but I treasured it and its 1.5” tall sleek design, minuscule 8 position red LED digits, 9-volt battery compartment, and 24 button keys. Impressive figures.

Once in my classroom, I stashed it safely in the back corner of my desk’s metal pencil tray, making sure my neighboring classmates could see it. I knew they would be in awe of it. Maybe Stephen Picklesimer would think I was so cool.

I thought about it all day, but by lunchtime, my attention was diverted to the snow! The whole class jumped to watch from Mrs. Howard’s window. It was adding up to be the best day – I turned double digits, sporting new Christmas duds, flaunting my swanky device, certain of my cool calculated smartness… and we got snow?! Pretty perfect.

Minus when the bell sounded throughout the school. Not the regular bell signaling a class change for the big kids. This one was long and out of place in our Lower School building. Something was wrong.

All students were quickly ushered by our teachers to the snowy parking lot and nearby playground. As we stood and waited, queued and shivering in the gray cold, we learned that Mrs. Triplett had received a bomb threat in the office.

It all happened so fast, we had taken nothing with us. No coats, no totes.

No TI-1250.

Somehow Mrs. Swaim, Mrs. King, and Mr. Rierson’s buses were deployed and old-school carpool phone trees executed. From where and how, I have no idea. But Mrs. Mallison’s wood-paneled station wagon magically appeared on Pine Tree Lane that snowy midday to fetch a frozen bevy of Woods, Mallisons, and Dillinghams and captained us to safety, away from our private school peril.

Once home, Wendell called mom at The Plant Shop and told her of the drama. She didn’t believe the bomb threat story, thinking we had made it up and certain that it was actually because of the snow.

For once, it didn’t matter to me what she did or did not believe.

All that mattered to me was that my calculator was about to blow up!

This wasn’t the era of bombings or school shootings. It was a simple and safe time. It was regular and Brady Bunchy and the 70s and who would make such a threat? Who would maliciously and intentionally frighten children? I bet it was a disgruntled alum playing a dumb and calculated prank.

It did win us a half day off on my snowy birthday with no means of doing any homework…

…but it was awful.

What would you go back in for? I’m fortunate to be able to answer that question in theory only. That year, I would have braved the elements to retrieve my mathematical gem, if only they had let me. Today, my valuables would look a bit different.

In the end, no real drama resulted. There was apparently no bomb and I recall no other mention of it. Did the Sheriff come? Detection dogs? Not a clue. Some villainous Wildcat remains anonymous to this day – at least to me.

Just like regular – same as any other day – a couple hundred K-12 Westchester students returned to school the next day.

And a 10-year-old gal in pigtails was gloriously reunited with her beloved little machine.

For extra credit, factor this lol M+:

Dolly Parton wore a size 69 bra. That was 2, 2, 2 big, so she went to 51st street to see Dr. X who gave her 8 pills for her pain.

My 2024 iPhone 15 displays a tepid, lackluster product =

55,378,008.

But my TI-1250? Its digits produced a little finical 4th grade fun. Turned upside down, my display shows that the pills left Dolly =

That’s my kind of math. IYKYK