My last column was about running out of gas on my way to work a couple of weeks ago.  Well, as it turns out, the day was just beginning.

I teach at a local junior college and as I was at the front of the class beginning my lecture (45 minutes late because of the gas thing), my cell phone rang.  Now, when one of my students’ cell phones rings, I give them a dirty look and remind them to turn off their phones before entering my class.

So, they all looked at me with big grins on their faces, like they were thinking, “Oh, yeah!  Who’s bad now?!”

On my old cell phone, I could easily turn off the ringer without powering off the phone.  I thought it was great because I don’t like having to go through all the start-up stuff every time.

But this was a new phone and it wasn’t the same, so when it rang I just hit the “NO” button.  The number was unfamiliar, so I wasn’t concerned.  In any case, the kids in the class were all watching my every move so I was trying to get the silly thing quiet as quickly as I could.  There’s no easy way to get out of this with a bunch of college kids watching, believe me.

I thought, “As soon as we take a break, I’ll figure out how to turn this dang ringer off.”  About that time, it rang again.

The kids howled.  Teacher had broken the rules and they were loving it.

I hit “NO” again and told the kids to take a break.  Again, it was a number I didn’t recognize.  I wondered who in the heck was trying so hard to get hold of me.  Everyone in my family knows I’m in class this time of day and also knows I’ll threaten them within an inch of their lives if they call during class.

So, I was sitting there, concentrating on the teeny tiny menu, trying to figure out how to turn the ringer off and not having much success when it rang a third time.  Unbelievable.

There were still kids watching me, of course.  I punched some more buttons and thought I was sending the call to my voice mail, but apparently I had answered it.  I could hear a voice screaming, “Hello?  Are you there?!”

I put the phone to my ear.  It was my husband saying, “Did you get my message?!”  His voice was slightly panicked.

“No,” I whispered.  “I’m in class,” I added as urgently as I could in a low voice.  Of course, everyone in the room could hear everything I was saying anyway.

“I’m at the hospital with Walter,” he explained.  “He’s broken his arm and you need to come.  Now.”

It turns out the first phone call was the school; the second and third calls were my hubby calling from the hospital.  That, at least, explained why I didn’t recognize them.

Well, to make a long story short, we wound up transferring him to another hospital with a pediatric orthopedic surgeon to repair the two bones that were broken clean in half.  The surgery didn’t happen until eight hours after the accident, so it made for a really long day and night.

But everything turned out fine.  The surgery went perfectly.  My class got to leave early.  And Walt, well, he’s hanging in there.

But I still haven’t figured out how to turn off that dern ringer.