Visitors from another planet

It's the beginning of the year. You know what that means. Lock your doors. Turn off the lights in your room. Hide behind the bookshelf. They're coming.

Last year's seniors haven't figured out how to Mapquest directions to the sleepy little college town of their choice. And they're back. In your classroom. During the school day. And, naturally, they don't wait to visit in-between classes or during your planning period (when you're hiding). They'd rather make a grand entrance, bursting through the door, arms raised like some conquering hero, 28 minutes into 4th period... just as you'd gotten the class down for their nap with William Bradford's Of Plymouth Plantation.

Hey 13th grader! This isn't the red carpet and there aren't any paparazzi. It's just my classroom, and these students don't know you from Adam, so drop your arms, take off your sunglasses, cut the pomp and circumstance, and come back and visit during my 20 minute lunch. Don't get me wrong. I love seeing the old faces who slept through every lecture, assignment, and test I gave them. I'm honored that they think enough of me to come back and visit. Heck, I'm honored they remember me and remember how to find the classroom as much as they slept through my class back then. But, don't they have better things to do, if not better timing? Shouldn't they be packing for college? Shouldn't they be returning textbooks they never returned senior year? Shouldn't they be... sleeping?

But still, I can't wait. Turnabout is fair play. If the school schedules work out right, I'm going to visit some of my former students at college. It's not that I miss them or anything. I just want to see the look on the professor's face when one of them says, "Uh... Dr. Professor Dude. Are we doing anything today? I mean, do I have to write anything down or anything? Because I'm like, really tired. And if this isn't going to be on the test, I don't want to write it down."

I'll bring a bag of popcorn and grab a front row seat for that little show.