The Fork

Principal X decided to "pop in" for a little while this afternoon. It was not really a good day to drop by. It was the last period of an 80+ degree day in an un-air-conditioned room with a bunch of teenagers, almost none of whom had done last night's homework, so...you tell me how you think the visit went.

The ensuing conversation with PX was unpleasant. Apparently I should just be conferring with students all the time. That's the only thing PX ever wants to see. Never mind that when s/he comes in during conferencing, I do that wrong too. Le sigh.

Anyway, after the Grand Poobah swept out of the room, I was officially drained of energy for the day. One thing I will say about my darlings, they have my back. They were dead silent the whole time PX was in the room, and looked about rather tentatively after PX left, wondering what to say or do. I made appropriate murmurings to put them back on task, somewhat halfheartedly. I think they could tell I wasn't going to enforce this too hard, but God bless them, they got right back to work.

They plugged away for a few more minutes until a boy I'll call Teddy raised his hand. "Miss Eyre?" he said. "I don't know if now is a good time to tell you this, but you have a fork in your hair."

"I...what?"

I reached up and touched my ponytail, where I tend to absentmindedly stash pens and pencils. Sure enough, there was a plastic fork stuck through it. I remembered thinking a spork would be better suited to my lunchtime yogurt today. And that was evidently where I'd put the unneeded fork.

I burst out laughing. The kids laughed along with me. I gave Teddy a hug. And I said, "Okay, kids, let's call it a day."

And I went home with them at the end of the day. 'Cause, man, when you've been dressed down by your boss with a fork in your hair, really, you've got nowhere else to go from that point.