I sent my TA, a modern version of Jessie Spano, over to a friends classroom to see if we could borrow her sharpener. The problem was that the teacher I sent my TA over to didn't have class that period. So-she did what any reasonable kid would do and went to the next closest classroom that had a teacher she knew.
The problem with that is, she didn't take into account the wack-a-doodle nature of the other teacher. First off, her classroom is locked up tighter than Fort Knox, lest anyone surprise her playing solitaire on the computer. Secondly, I would only expect her level of disdain for children from someone much more weathered and long in the tooth than she. Thirdly, well there is no three...she is just bizarre and hates kids, but who makes a list of just two things?
Jessie came back a few minutes later and made no mention of her changing the game plan due to the fact that the original teacher was not available. We sharpened our pencils, to the point that they could double as Japanese samurai swords, and promptly sent the sharpener back to it's original owner. Maybe 10 minutes total.
Anyhooter, last week Jessie Spano came into my room, frantic and waving a piece of paper like a wild banshee. As it turns out Ms. Wack-a-doodle wrote her up for "stealing a pencil sharpener that is for classroom student use." I kid you not, the referral read, "Jessie Spano came into my room and asked to sharpen her pencil. I turned to answer a question and as I looked back at Ms Spano, she shoved my sharpener into her bag and ran out the door. I sent one of my students to find her, but she was gone."
Seriously? Jessie Spano, little miss 4.2, never missed a day of school in her life, and has more than three college acceptance letters in that very bag of stolen pencil sharpeners? She 'stuffed it in her bag and ran?'
I am sure there was probably a number of mature options that I could have taken in order to deal with this situation in a grown up and mature manner. But really, where would the fun in that be? Instead, after a few emails regarding the ridiculous nature of her referral and accusations of thievery, I conceded that I did borrow her sharpener. If it didn't get back to her, even though I am certain it did, I would more than happily replace it.
With that, Operation Power Point was in full swing. A few of my more giving and thoughtful coworkers began to send over sharpeners. Every day. Every period. For the next two weeks. Pink ones, decorative ones, broken ones, battery powered ones, plug in's, manual ones, hand held ones, more broken ones, crayon sharpeners, full ones, empty ones, pencil shavings, etc. She must have at least 35 sharpeners.
And with that...my work was done. She has a plethora of pointed pencils, my type A, overachieving, wildly honest TA didn't get suspended and my passive aggressive muscles have been sufficiently exercised.
Seriously, back up off my TA. It's not like she could sneak in, being that the mayor of Crazytown keeps that place locked up 24/7. The teacher had to let her in. Stuffed it in her bag and ran? That is laughable. It's not our fault that one of her own kids probably broke the sharpener and threw itaway rather than face the wrath of Sra. Wack-a-doodle.
I think this is the feeling people must be talking about when they refer to pride in a job well done. Perhaps this is the very best of me that I was referring to in my last post.