The Gal Without a Classroom

The man without a country has nothing on Val Thevictorian. Val is the teacher without a classroom. For two days, anyway. Have you heard? It’s standardized testing season! So my tested kids go with me to the computer lab while my untested kids have a substitute. Yes! A substitute! Isn’t that grand? No farming them out to be minded in a gym or cafeteria or library. No sirree, Bob! No shenaniganistic opportunities for them! They have the chance to exercise their brains with an assignment. All hail the flow of knowledge through formative noggins.

Because my little testees (heh, heh, I said testees) finished before the allotted time elapsed, I was like Richard Gere as Zach Mayo in An Officer and a Gentleman. I had nowhere else to go. Though I was thankful I was not laying on my back on a concrete slab with a drill sergeant spraying hose water on my face.

I couldn’t go to my classroom because an already-hired sub was comfortably ensconced. I couldn’t go to the teacher workroom because later lunch shifts use it as a private dining room. I wormed my way into a business classroom for the 25 minutes they were gone to lunch. Then I popped over to the library.

So peaceful, a library. I set out all my educational accoutrements on a wobbly plastic-covered-with-faux-wood-grain-laminate table. Time to catch up on a little work until the afternoon testing session. Or not.

The nirvana of my booky sanctuary burst alive with the unannounced invasion of a teeming horde of freshmen on the march like army ants. Except they did not devour everything in their wake, but attempted to socialize it to death. Like a gaggle of gamboling golden retriever pups, they romped across the library to the center table where I had set up shop. “Mrs. Thevictorian! Mrs. Thevictorian! Aren’t you happy to see us?”

“Ecstatic. But I’m afraid I must leave now.” I gathered the tools of my trade. The freshman crests fell at 9.8 meters per second per second.

“Don’t you like us? Don’t you miss us?” They had just sat down at my table. All 1,387 of them. Apparently my table was as adjustable as Santa’s sack.

“Indeed. But your teacher has brought you here to work. And I am a distraction. Until we meet again…” Funny how quickly they recovered as I made my exit. Kids are so resilient.

Lucky for me, the business class took me back. All I had to do was sit at a computer station in the dark with my back to the projector screen and listen to Chris Hanson catch a financial predator. He was from Nigeria, I believe. Much work was accomplished before time for the next testing session.

Tomorrow I’ll do it all over again.