Blue Day. Formerly B Day. Day 28.

I am devoting today's blog to discuss the disturbing events of yesterday, A Day. Day 27.

Before I do that I would be remiss if didn't mention at least a few of the overheard wisdom nuggets of what may be the wisest of all sophomore study halls. AP study hall? Yes. I think. The following are all from the sophomores...In order to understand you have to be aware of a sometimes class tradition of filling a plastic dinosaur egg with a reward and the highest scoring class gets to break it open for the prizes inside...

"You should fill the dinosaur egg in your classroom with beans. That way when the class with the highest average on the test breaks it …BEANS!" However I heard bees. Bees seem like a better choice but only for the LOWEST scoring class. So. The highest scoring class breaks open the egg and finds candy. The lowest scoring class breaks open the egg and finds bees. However, and this is key... I never tell the class if they are the highest or the lowest. They won't know until the egg is broken.

They also discussed the aesthetics of having no belly button. However, "shouty" pointed out that the most you could live without a belly button was four months as that is how you receive nutrients and oxygen in the womb, and without a bellybutton there would be nothing to attach the umbilical cord to and you would die. I'm not sure about the numbers but the science seems sound.

And now, I'm going to recap my observation. I call it "Tim's Very Bad Day" It occurred on Thursday, September 28th during second period. If I am back in school on Monday, you will know I somehow talked my way back into good graces of the social studies department.

As I was waiting in the 37 minute line for the teachers bathroom I noticed an administrator in the hallway. He prowled the tiles like a shark in a blazer and I knew that if he had climbed all the way to the top of the 900 building he would not leave without a victim. And then like a fool I made eye contact.

I rushed back to my room and began to write "things" on my board. Things like the date and standards of education and "things" that just generally look scholarly. As I was doing this the class slouched in like furtive hyenas and used my distraction to NOT put their phones away. The fools! This could doom me! The administrator in question walked in and found the 37th desk. (This time it's not actually a literary device or exaggeration. There are literally 37 desks in the room and that one was the only one open.)

Immediately I told the class to put their phones in their bags. They snarled their weird AP snarls and put away their phones, knowing in their hearts that no one would want to speak with them anyway. I may have dodged that faux pas but what about the next? And since they are a bunch of nerds, what would stop them from building a radio, or using flashes of Morse code? But I was soon faced with another obstacle to my unplanned observation. I heard the opening of a Cheetos bag.

The scoundrels! They had snuck food in like winter squirrels and they were beginning to feast. This was too much. I had already messed the phone thing up. I couldn't draw attention to the food. I couldn't. I would sit at my desk (as there was no place else I could fit) and make up random, true sounding "facts" about the foundational documents and federalism. (Which I love.) I needed to buy time! Normally I would have lugged a packet at them and gone to sleep under my hoodie. But now I had to teach like I actually knew what I was talking about! Even if every thing I said that class was complete nonsense I had to make it sound real! And distract from the food...

And then another bag opened. Tostones. A snack so endemic to South Florida that if you tried to eat it any where else you would instantly be deported without another question. But it didn't stop there. A group of students had stood up and opened the door. (also a problem, but it gets worse) They had opened the door and grasped hold of a rope and like the screaming classroom savages they are they led an oxen into the room and began to prepare to roast it. While I was droning on about federalism. (WHICH EVERYONE KNOWS I LOVE!) several students had quietly built a bonfire in the middle of the class. They were fueling it with unfinished packets and broken desks. They were planning on roasting the ox! This was too much. Perhaps the administrator hadn't noticed. His head was down and he was looking at his computer when the dancing started. The class began to circle the fire and gesticulate wildly. The ox stood forlorn and what appeared to be a classroom shaman approached the ox! Somehow the Cheetos and tostones didn't seem so bad anymore. Children were salivating looking at the ox, and no one was listening to my passionate ramblings about federalism (which I love.) Several kids pulled live chickens from inside their hoodies and began to prepare them for the fire. Another child somehow managed to lead an entire goat into the room, it's fate surely the same as that of the ox. The dancing and the smoke and the animals being prepared for slaughter, it was just too much. I must say something! So, meekly I just quietly said "remember, no snacks in the class. We don't want to get ants." My administrator nodded approvingly. I had handled that usurpation of order in the classroom. Perhaps he wouldn't notice the fire.

Second period was noticeably upset by the ending of their sacrifice and feast. But they scurried back to their desks and glared angrily at me while I continued to sing the praises of federalism (which I love.)

The ox and goat wandered back out into the hall and chickens returned to be carried home, their futures surely grim. Maybe this observation wouldn't be so bad. Probably no one could tell the goat from any of my normal students anyway. Maybe my administrator hadn't even noticed.