Instant Grade-a-fication

Today after school, I’ll be the most important person in the world. That’s because it’s the last day of school. No, they won’t be stopping by to give me gifts and gratitude or to reminisce. They’ll be there for their final grades. It’s quite the sight. They’ll come flooding in as soon as the last bell rings. Last year I thought I heard some scratching in the ceiling and was ready for them to come crashing through the tiles. “Impossible,” you say? Guess again.

They come in cold like they’re one of those world class assassins from the movies and say, “What’s my grade?”

I keep my hand inside my coat just to give the impression that I’m packing heat. It’s like saying, “Hey, I don’t want any trouble. You don’t want any trouble. Just get what you came for and go.”

Actually, that’s not true for most of them just ask, “Did I pass?” They don’t even care whether if they got a D or an A, just give them goods. The whole thing makes me feel dirty.

As for their responses to my answer, they either rush-out, shouting, “Cool! Have a…,” (I assume the rest is “great summer” because they’re half-way down the hall by mid-sentence), or they shuffle out mumbling some other stuff that I can’t repeat.

I guess I should be grateful to those kids who wait until the end of school. Nowadays they ask at the same time they’re turning in their tests, like my hand is a computer or something. For them, I just make calculation noises until they give up and leave.

Doot-Doot-Doot-Deet-Doot-Doot-Doot