Coming In Out of the Code
{squawk!}
Principal Pécan’s voice broke over the PA system, “Code C! Code C! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!”
Another squawk accompanied by some feedback, and his voice is gone.
The truth is that it was a drill. You see, Code C is the term used to initiate practice for a Code Omega, in case there is ever the need for one. Besides that fact that the practice code is less conspicuous than the actual code, I’ve got another problem with this whole event.
Not only do I know that this is just a simulation, but so do the students. For the last two days it’s been on the school’s televised announcements and the daily announcements; they’ve even been projecting on the wall in the cafeteria during along with those announcements. So, I’m not too sure what was with that “This is not a drill” stuff.
Anyway, after Pécan gets off the PA, it’s lock your doors, turn off your classroom lights, and keep the students calm as you have them sit on the floor far away from the door as possible. That last one shouldn’t be a problem with a nice calm announcement like—oh, look at that. How cute. All hell has already broken loose.
Three of my football players have already vowed to “kick that faggot’s ass if he comes in here.” They sealed the vow by slapping each other on the side of their heads. Blood was in the water for these guys, I guess.
Cleavon, one my gifted, but rambunctious students started creating a rap that got everyone even more riled up. I would have stopped him, but I wanted to hear what he had to complement, “practicing for violators.”
Then there were all the catcalls when my hoochies with their hoochie skirts tried to sit on the floor, per lock down procedure.
I started to wonder if I wouldn’t fare better being outside my classroom if there were an intruder. If they at least don’t hump anything that moves, then I would certainly have a fighting chance, but in my classroom… that’s a different story.
After 30 minutes, Principal Pécan’s voice came over the PA again, “Uh… Code… uh… what was the ‘All Clear’ code again that we decided on last week? Oh. Right. No, that’s not it! Uh… Code… uh… Code ‘Everything’s Okay.’ You may resume your normal educational activities. Everything’s okay now.”
So says you, bub. I’ve seen what happens when the savages get riled up. What’s the code for when a teacher is operating on his last nerve?
Principal Pécan’s voice broke over the PA system, “Code C! Code C! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!”
Another squawk accompanied by some feedback, and his voice is gone.
The truth is that it was a drill. You see, Code C is the term used to initiate practice for a Code Omega, in case there is ever the need for one. Besides that fact that the practice code is less conspicuous than the actual code, I’ve got another problem with this whole event.
Not only do I know that this is just a simulation, but so do the students. For the last two days it’s been on the school’s televised announcements and the daily announcements; they’ve even been projecting on the wall in the cafeteria during along with those announcements. So, I’m not too sure what was with that “This is not a drill” stuff.
Anyway, after Pécan gets off the PA, it’s lock your doors, turn off your classroom lights, and keep the students calm as you have them sit on the floor far away from the door as possible. That last one shouldn’t be a problem with a nice calm announcement like—oh, look at that. How cute. All hell has already broken loose.
Three of my football players have already vowed to “kick that faggot’s ass if he comes in here.” They sealed the vow by slapping each other on the side of their heads. Blood was in the water for these guys, I guess.
Cleavon, one my gifted, but rambunctious students started creating a rap that got everyone even more riled up. I would have stopped him, but I wanted to hear what he had to complement, “practicing for violators.”
Then there were all the catcalls when my hoochies with their hoochie skirts tried to sit on the floor, per lock down procedure.
I started to wonder if I wouldn’t fare better being outside my classroom if there were an intruder. If they at least don’t hump anything that moves, then I would certainly have a fighting chance, but in my classroom… that’s a different story.
After 30 minutes, Principal Pécan’s voice came over the PA again, “Uh… Code… uh… what was the ‘All Clear’ code again that we decided on last week? Oh. Right. No, that’s not it! Uh… Code… uh… Code ‘Everything’s Okay.’ You may resume your normal educational activities. Everything’s okay now.”
So says you, bub. I’ve seen what happens when the savages get riled up. What’s the code for when a teacher is operating on his last nerve?
- H.T. at 7:16 AM
