One teacher's trash is another teacher's--trash.

We got an email from one of the teachers today.

"After 43 years of teaching these spoiled brats and putting up with #$&! year after year, I'm retiring... and getting rid of all my teacher junk. If you want it, come and get it before I burn it! Burn it all! Fire cleanses everything! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Cut to a scene straight out of every flea market, estate sale, and yard sale you've ever seen. Treasure seekers listlessly walk around the room, flipping items over and giving them the once (sometimes twice) over.

Now I'm just as guilty people, but shouldn't we give the scavenging a rest? We have a sickness. Ninety-nine percent of us have a need for a poster that says, "Study hard, lest the Reds enslave us all." Nor should we have the faintest desire for a mimeograph stencil.

Yet we scramble over one another for the worthless booty. Gee, I don't see doctors snatching up archaic equipment for a surgery next week. Lawyers aren't prepping their cases with books that have pages missing. So why would I I drool over a staple remover that is missing a fang?

Wait a second... those guys have money... those guys have money!

Oh God! I'm missing out on the looting! You don't think that Lavern & Shirley diorama has been taken yet, do you?