Monday, November 20, 2006

That's not the kind of break that I was hoping for.

Have I ever told you that one of the walls in my classroom is one of those collapsible partitions? You know what I'm talking about, one of those itchy burlap covered walls that folds easily like an accordion. See, this school was built during an "open classrooms" rage, when once it was envisioned that you could have multiple classes going through the paces in one space and, ya' know, not need walls separating them.

Of course, doctors used to apply leeches to their patients as well.

Sadly, this paper-maché wall is a nice break from the icy cold cinder block walls that occupy the other three-fourths of my universe. Plus, it's the one wall where my "Coolio says, 'Reading is cool!'" poster won't fall off of in the middle of class.

I need newer posters.

The bad thing about these walls is that they can be opened easily to double the size of your class. The worse thing is that they can be opened easily when you don't want to double the size of your classroom. Can you guys see where this is going? If not, then let me explain.

In the middle of first period a kid busted through this wall from the other side. I half expected my kids to say, "Hey Kool-Aid Man!"

"Oh, Yeah!"

Instead, the kid didn't say a word, doesn't even acknowledge me, and returns to his class. I walked over to the new hole of mystery, but there was complete darkness and I had no idea where the teacher might be. Trust me, I wasn't about to ignore that knowledge that I gleaned from horror movies over the years. I wasn't about to "investigate."

As I had a couple of my football players move a filing cabinet in front of the abyss, my imagination kicked in. I thought that maybe I should buy a mallet just in case more kids popped through. That way I could get a big ol', cathartic, whack-a-mole game going. If I played my cards right, then I could sell wallops to other teachers. I can just see it; I'll even give away tickets for their scores. Then, they could exchange said tickets for prizes--wax lips, slide whistles, and comically large combs.

Early retirement, here I come!

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