*cue “Morning” from Peer Gynt Suite*
A teacher strolls down a long hallway, savoring the relative quiet. She raises her can of soda pop to her lips . . .
Voice from Around the Corner: AaaaaiaiiiiEEEEEEEEEEE!
Me: [races down the hall, cuts the corner and skids to a stop]
Jolted Junior: Spider! Spiderspiderspider Biiiiiiiig spider!
Me: [studies wolf spider heading for the outside door] You are quite correct. I’ll get the door for him.
The spider went in peace under his own power. Headed for the van used by the teaching sisters to commute to Day Job.
A confused soul wanders into my classroom during chapel hours.
Me: Can I help you?
Confused Soul: Um, I think this is my first period class?
Me: You are?
C.S.: Mumbles name
Me: No, you are in Brother Vector’s math class next door during first period. This is chapel period. Which chapel are you in?
C.S: Um, Protestant Two? I think? I left my schedule at home?
Me: Let’s go check with Mrs. Hutchinson.
C.S. [As we go up the hall to Mrs. Hutchinson’s room]: This is kinda my second first day. I’ve been sick.
Me: That’s quite alright. Some days are like this.
Indeed, she was in Protestant Two, and Mrs. Hutchinson took over.
I was being invisible behind the desk, covering a study hall while Sister Scholastica was on retreat.
Frazzled Freshman [sprawled in chair at study carrel] Uuuuugh, I’m doooomed.
Sober Senior [looking up from calculus book]: It’s only the second week of school. No one is doomed until the fourth week.
Secular Senior: Unless you are among the reprobate, not the elect. But that’s only if you’re Protestant. The rest of us are safe. [returns to history book]
Frazzled Fresh: I skimmed the stuff for English and I still busted the quiz.
Sober: There’s your problem.
Frazzled: But that’s what you do, right? Find something on the ‘net, answer the questions, get an A. That’s what we did at my other school.
Sober: You went on the net? For English? How do you think you can learn it without actually reading the story?
Sophomore Standing at the Printer: Just read it. One short story won’t kill you.
Secular Senior [muttering from behind history book]: No, but Sr. Mary Conjugation will.
I stayed where I was, invisible, and trying hard not to laugh.
Sister Scholastica (aka The Dean) returned from her retreat refreshed and out of the loop. We crossed paths in the secondary workroom.
Me: Good morning, Sister.
Sr. Scholastica: Good morning, Miss Red. [stirs coffee] How have things been?
Me: Mostly quiet.
Sr. Scholastica: Mostly quiet?
Me [counts off on fingers of hand not holding tea mug]: First hairy spider of the season, two misplaced student laptops, major communication lapse between here and the usual place so Señora Piñata is rather irked, and the junior students have been counseled about how to return to class when they come back from off-campus chapel.
Sr. Scholastica [sips coffee]: Generally normal, in other words.
Me: Yes, ma’am.