January 5, 2011
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Happenings.
As the school’s primary substitute teacher there are times where all of our employees collectively decide they can actually put up with the youth of tomorrow and my job gets stretched thin.
I can have number of tasks like: hall duty, classroom coverage, lunch duty, library duty, printer fixer, essay checker, PSAT proctor or crossword doer.
Tuesday I was stuck with my most dreaded duty: bathroom duty.
It sounds like a cushy, easy social job. And actually half the time that is exactly what it is. But the other half of the time is so horrendous that I literally despise ever having to do it. Because of a stabbing in the beginning of 2002 there has been various security provisions taken to make the school a safer place. One, the most successful, was an ID system. Every teacher, custodian and student has one, well, except me.
To go to the bathroom the adult on duty must take the student’s ID an scan it into a system. The kids go about their lavatory lechery and come back where we, the adults, re-scan the ID and a literal receipt comes out for the kid. Where, in my best Apu accent, I say: “Thank you, come again.”
The reason I hate this duty is not this system (It’s actually pretty awesome when you can go back through the system and see how many times a kid goes to the bathroom, wherein the administration can ban that kid from going at all.) The reason I hate this duty is because I get it at lunch, the main period when you can go during the day. A 2 hour free for all. Teachers rarely say no, students hold it in and my blood pressure rises.
Kids will throw you their IDs. They will yell at you when you can scan correctly the first time. They’ll come up with the dumbest reasons as to why they don’t have it: “Nah, I gave it to my girlfriend so she could eat lunch.” They will cover their barcode with stickers (Top 3 Most Popular: 1.) Spongebob 2.) Dora the Explorer 3.) Stars, yeah just Stars). And this isn’t just one or two kids I’m talking up to 20 IDs getting thrown at me.
So, Tuesday, right after a big rush and I can actually take a breath I hear footsteps, running ones. There is no one in the hall. Then the double doors to my right slowly open. I see a faux-hawked, 95 lb., hispanic kid with glasses comes in. He has just his socks on and looks absolutely befuddled. He is staring down at his crisp, white, definitely Santa given socks. Then he, in what seemed to be 80s action movie slow-motion, looked up and said, “They took my shoes.”
“Who took your shoes?,” I said.
“I don’t even know, but they took ‘em”
“You didn’t get a good look?”
“It all happened so fast.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Go to lunch I guess…”
He then shuffled his socks along the linoleum floor and walked towards the lunch room. And I had one of the hardest laughs at a job, ever.
Thank you faux-hawk kid with glasses. You made bathroom duty worth it.
