Miss Verbum: Miss Red, a question.
Me: Yes, ma’am?
Miss Verbum: I see that the October Revolution will be in March. Can we move that a week?
Me: Yes ma’am, there’s some flexibility in the schedule.
Miss Verbum: Thank you. [walks toward the work room]
Puzzled Sophomore [to junior]: Huh?
Jaunty Junior: Teachers don’t have to make sense. We have to make sense.
P.S.: [still puzzled] Um, OK.
* * * * * * *
Fr. Garcia bustles in for religion class as soon as the bell rings. He nods to the material in the center of the board.
Fr. G: Can that be erased? I need to use the projector.
Me: Certainly, Father. [wipe, wipe, wipe]
Fr. G. [entering his pass code into the computer]: I’m exposing them to death today.
Me: You’re taking them to Taco Ptomaine?
Fr. G.: [laughing] Good one.
* * * * * * *
Frustrated Freshman: Why can’t I do a project on that topic?
Jaundiced Junior: Because I’ve tried, Silly Senior tried, and two more tried it. Both Sr. Scholastica and Mrs. Plen Aire both said no, capital letters, bold print.
What sort of project would the dean and art teacher both veto? I leave it to the imagination of the readers, because I did not ask.
* * * * * * * *
We’ve had candidates for an administration position in the diocese visiting St. Angus in the Grass School. All are clergy. I wandered into the work room around lunch last week.
Sr. Scholastica: So, Mr. Long-Slavic-Last-Name, what do you think of the candidates thus far?
Mr. L-S-L-N: [stirring his double-strength coffee] I’m having trouble telling them apart. They all dress alike.
Everyone groaned or rolled their eyes. Because it was Mass/ Chapel Day, the halls were dotted with clerical/convent black. With the occasional bit of brown (Franciscans. “Diversity hire.”) for variety.
* * * * * *
“Whrrrrrr-thppth. Whrrrr-thpth. Whrrrrr-thpth. BEEEEEEPPPPPP.”
Six pair of worried eyes turn to the big copier. Brother Vector approaches the machine, posture wary—as if ready to run. He peers at the control panel.
“It’s just out of paper.”
Six sighs of relief greet his words.