People are dying to get out of here.

I thought that I’d get this in now, since it is the calm before the storm. We’re shutting down the school—keys are being turned in, equipment is being checked in, grades are being turned into the registrar. Teachers will be trampling over one another to get everything done, so that they can beat it out of here as soon as possible and not look back for about 10 weeks. It seems that this day gets more and more chaotic, and this year might be extremely violent.

First of all, I got her at my regular time and the parking lot that’s usually barren was packed like the infield of a NASCAR race. There were hibachis and lawn furniture everywhere as if teachers spent the night there. I guess everyone wanted to make sure they got into the school as early as possible, so as to be prepared for the day’s events, and preparing they were.

As I walked by my fellow teachers’ classrooms to get to mine, I could see them fashioning makeshift weapons out of ordinary school items. It was like something out of The Gangs of New York. A number of teachers were tying compasses to the end of yard sticks. Some were using sharpies to apply war paint. Others were swirling their extension cord whips and things I can only describe as ruler nunchakus. One teacher had even converted his waste basket into a helmet and was punching himself on the side of the head, trying to amp himself up.

So, if you don’t hear from me again, then don’t let my death come in vain. All I ask is that you carry-on doing the good teacher stuff that you do. Although, erecting a statue in my honor would be totally sweet too, but whatever.