The bad habits of childhood die slowly or not at all.

In elementary school, P.S. 50 in the Bronx, I was always peeved at my teachers. Why did they allow other students to answer the questions they posed, when they knew that I, Stanley Greenberg, knew the right answers?

They obviously saw and heard me, with right arm extended, half out of my chair, grunting not so softly, "I know, I know!" How could they choose another person? These well-meaning teachers scarred me for life.

I must admit that all my life I have been a bit of a showoff when it came to relating obscure facts. Unfortunately, I was blessed with a prodigious memory and can remember baseball facts and figures, old jokes and parts of every movie I have ever seen.

In my mid-60s, I have made a startling discovery! Nobody likes a smart aleck.

Dropping little known facts on people does not seem to make them happier. One would suppose they would love you and admire you for stating these wonderful insights, but it seems to have the very opposite effect.

Instead of building admiration, these offerings become definite conversation stoppers. The listener will gaze at you as if you have leprosy and quickly depart to the furthest part of the room from where you stand or sit. Believe me, it works every time.

At a party I was once called "Mr. Footnotes." I had to stop and think "Was that a put-down or a compliment?" I decided that it was a compliment and spouted more facts and figures 'til I realized I was standing all alone.

It is hard not to state these items because that would take self-control¬something I have in very short supply.

This hand waving in the classroom has followed me into adult education classes, Rabbi Katz's lectures and school board meetings.

Many times I have vowed to cease this disgusting habit, but when a thought appears, I feel it needs expression. When a question needs answering, there I am "Stanley on the spot." I have concluded that it is not a habit that can be broken without deep psychiatric help.

Since my wife's insurance plan does not cover "wise-guy with a big-mouth disease," I have decided not to seek treatment.

My good friends for half a century or more will have to put up with the old Stanley . I am doing it for them. They won't recognize me if I change too radically at this age.

Hmm...I wonder if I am allowed to give my own eulogy?