Structurally Sound

Seventh Period let out yesterday, and as I did my usual clean up of the floor for treasures left behind, I found something extraordinary. Normally, I come across my handouts, which I stress are important to keep. They typically have graffiti all over them—weaponry, their names in bubble writing, and classic rock band logos. This time, I came across a creation between the two aisles in the opposite corner from my desk. I call that place Samoa for good reason. It’s the farthest location of my jurisdiction, thus the most difficult for me to govern.

What I found was a structure of some sort that consisted of various supplies found in my classroom. There were A-frames made out of note cards, pencil turrets, paperclips marking the road leading up to the thing, and all other kinds of amenities. It was like some kind of office supply Shangri-La.

How did they do this? I’m not asking because I can’t comprehend the laws of physics nor do I under appreciate the aesthetics of architecture. I’m asking because for two weeks now I’ve been begging these kids to do something as simple as returning the student surveys that I give out at the beginning of the year, and nothing. But a sturdy model for a lodge, with guest quarters mind you, is no problem. You can see why I am frustrated.

It’s gotten to the point that I don’t even care what condition the surveys come back in. I’d even take them with their jack-a-ninny responses. I’d just like to get them back.

Favorite food? Your mom

Where do you see yourself in ten years? Ass

Favorite motto? Life’s not gay, so stop being a fag.

Of course it looks like many of the surveys were contributed to the homestead that I found. It’s probably the closest thing that I’ll get to have with a pool.