Skip to main content

The Day I Went Psycho


It was the last day of school, a work day for teachers.  That usually entails that our classrooms are packed up for the summer and we have returned all borrowed materials to the book room or the library, cleared all debts with the front office, and turned in our lesson plan books and student grades to the principal or her designee.
Teachers usually start preparing for this big day a month or so in advance; after all, it is a tremendous amount of work to get done in one 8-hour day.
Most principals I worked for did not keep the teachers past noon, though the work day is a paid contract day.  It makes up marginally for all the hours and weekends teachers spend throughout the school year doing work on their own time.
By the time I had cleared my room and locked it for the last time, it was close to eleven. I started my “stations of the cross,” going from one to another getting the mandatory initials on my checkout list – the librarian, my department chair, the front desk, etc. I was down to the lady in charge of student grades, and the final stop – shaking hands with the principal – when the grade woman closed her office and went to lunch.
          She went to lunch.
          Some of the folks in line gave up and went to lunch too, but I stayed. Her usual lunch “hour” was only thirty minutes, so I was determined to be there when she returned.  I moved up several places and the handful of us tried to make ourselves comfortable.  
          She and her pals came back seventy minutes later, laughing gaily, while the few of us diehards were fighting growling tummies and sugar lows.
          The group she was with was a handful of young teachers who considered themselves the “cool” teachers.  The type who if one does not recognize their coolness, they will announce it straight out. Everyone else is laughable and does not deserve to breathe their air.
          The few of us stood from where we had leaned, sat, or drooped.  At last, the grade lady was back.  But then she did the unforgiveable – she let her “cool” friends go to the head of the line.  She was too stupid to know they let her in their clique so she would grant them favors. She was no cooler than the rest of us; she was just a chump.
          I erupted. I cussed. (I will not write the word here, but believe me, it was NOT ladylike.) I called them spoiled brats and entitled snobs, and showed them where the end of the line “blank” was.
The cool teachers looked at me from the end of their cool noses. Who was I to tell them what to do? I charged at them and they backed off in their cool high heels and expensive sneakers. Another teacher in line tried to intervene.  She danced between us and made her Rodney King speech of “Can we not get along?”
          I ranted about having to wait more than one hour while the grade lady went to lunch with these “blankety blanks,” and now they were cutting into the front of the line?  I. Did. Not. Think. So!
I charged at them again.
          Our principal peeked out from her office and smiled at me.  We had been friends for a very long time, so she knew about my psycho side.  She did not intervene; she just watched.
          The cool teachers scampered off, saying things under their breath about old dinosaurs and crazy old hags, but I did not care. The grade lady slunk into her office and was very polite when it was my turn to meet with her. She signed my form.
          The principal and I shook hands after I gave her my completed checklist.  She asked if I was okay.
          “I’m cool.” I said and we both smiled.

            

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dating Challenged

I stink at dating – always have.   I sputter.   I hyperventilate.   I fail miserably every time. I blame a pathetically underdeveloped gene that got little use before I married in my early twenties, then atrophied, gathering dust and rust, until I became single again in my fifties.   I decided to use this defect to my advantage when I needed to do some investigative reporting a few years back.   While on a newspaper writing assignment on Boomer-aged dating, I sacrificed my dignity and my vanity for the sake of the story (and I got several). Thank goodness, HoneyBunch saved me from all this when we married.  (He comes up with the best dates.) I’ve decided I will “show you mine if you show me yours.”   I will swap dating horror stories with you, but you have to promise to play along. The trick here is to tell about your worst date in 25 words or less.   You must keep it clean and you cannot name names. Our little contest will run only this week and before my next blogger posting.   Me

Happy Breastday to Me!

I gave myself a very special birthday present this year – I had surgery. Before you think it was to increase, decrease, or “lift” something, let me tell you it was not cosmetic (though I could probably use a few nips and tucks at my age; the infinite number of creams I buy OTC are not working their promised magic). About four or five months ago, I discovered a hard lump about the size of a large marble in my left armpit.  I had been feeling small pangs of pain in my left chest for several months, but I figured it was just my turn to dance with heart disease.  Everyone in my immediate family is diabetic and suffers from strokes or heart attacks, so I thought – here we go; my turn. I was going to tell my internist about the pangs during my next visit, so imagine my surprise when I discovered the lump. The Drama Queen in me immediately manifested herself – cancer, I thought.  I have cancer. I searched some more and found that the texture on the left side of my left breast felt diffe

Twelve Female Hero Authors Who Influenced Me to be an Author

In honor of Women’s History Month, I decided to share twelve female authors who changed my life forever and who influenced me to try my hand at writing. Some are not widely popular so you might want to try them out. 1.    Charlotte Bront é – English – Her plotting and characters - Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester – are immortal.  2.    Louisa May Alcott – American – I loved how she created a family of Little Women that reminded me of my sisters.  3.    Jane Austen – English – Another author who knew how to build immortal characters. Two words:  Mr. Darcy. Two more words:  hubba hubba. 4.    Emily Dickinson – American - What a poet! Her innovation was pooh-poohed at first, but now we owe her for breaking all those punctuation barriers. 5.    Beverly Cleary – American – She created a little girl in Ramona that reminded me of me when I was a little girl.  I wish I had met Ms. Cleary’s books sooner instead of when I was in my 30’s. 6.    Judy Blume – American - He