Teachers Are Mean

In case you haven't heard...teachers are mean. Right, Meanie? We are not above having a laugh at the students' expense. But sometimes they just ask for it. We can't pass up the perfect set-up.

Last Friday, the kids were all a-buzz about drug testing. Several of them, in different grades and classes, asked me if our school was really going to give drug tests. I told them I hadn't heard anything about it. They went on. Some thought it was only for the athletes. I said, "Well, you sign a contract to play, don't you? I'm sure it mentions something about drugs and alcohol." They agreed.

This morning, we had more students absent than normal. I attributed that fact to the snot-related illness that's going around. At the end of 1st hour, the kids asked me when the drug test would be. I said, "Well, I have not received any special teacher announcement about it, so as far as I know, we're not having one." They thought I was out of the loop. Or just not telling them.

Second hour, they started it again. When would it be? The straight arrows declared that they didn't have anything to worry about, though they did not want to pee in a cup. I said, "You do it at the doctor's office, don't you? What's the difference?" A boy said he didn't think he could do it. It would be too difficult. We females just stared at him. I told the class, "They can do the same thing with a hair sample, you know." Maybe that gave some of the non-pee-ers hope. They were acting like they would be called out to the center circle on the gym floor, to provide the sample in front of the entire student body.

Third hour, a girl declared, "Mrs. ParkingSpaceStealer said they are going to take a blood sample for the drug test. I hate giving blood." I tilted my head sideways and looked thoughtful. "Yes...you can do a drug test that way." Start polishing my Emmy.

At lunch, we asked the principal why the kids were all talking about a drug test. He chuckled. "I don't know HOW this rumor got started. I've had kids coming up to me all morning asking when they're going to be called out. I wish I could call somebody with a white coat to come in and stand in the hall." Heh, heh.

Fourth hour was concerned about the bloodletting.

Fifth hour, a girl asked to go to the bathroom. Another one commented, "I have to go really bad, but I don't know what hour they're doing the drug test, so I'm saving it." I told her I thought she would be OK if she went now.

Sixth hour was my plan time. In the hall, I stopped Mrs. ParkingSpaceStealer and told her about the 'saving' incident, and how she had my students worried about the blood sample. She laughed. "It has to be my 7th hour class of freshmen. I'll really get them good. I'll set out those little Styrofoam cups that I use to sell the small snow cones. Then about 15 minutes before the bell, I'll tell them, 'We're going to have to put things up so we have time for the drug test.' That'll get 'em going."

Just before 7th hour, I saw her by the office, putting her head together with the principal. As she walked past me, she said, "The secretary is going to buzz my room and say, 'Mrs. ParkingSpaceStealer? The drug testers are ready for your class now.' It's going to be good." I told her I would probably hear the screams all the way up in my room.

But I didn't. After the final bell, though, those kids were chattering like magpies as they came up the hall. "Mrs. ParkingSpaceStealer scared us to death! We thought we were doing the drug test!"

Never underestimate the meanness of a teacher. Especially when the school year is almost over.