Friday, December 14, 2007

The Great Conspiracy

My teaching buddy, Mabel, says that if I miss a day of school, everything will continue without me. Nothing will fall apart. And furthermore, I'm not nearly as important as I would like to believe. As in, when I die, nobody will say, "Good ol' Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. She never missed a day of school." No. They will say, "Who's Mrs. Hillbilly Mom."

Tonight, I'm here to prove Mabel wrong. OK, not on the funeral comments. Because I ain't dead yet. The bone I have to pick with Mabel concerns her mistaken belief that everything will be fine if I miss school. I only missed ONE class. I wasn't playing hooky. I was taking my mom to the doctor. And LOOK what happened:

I missed 7th hour on Wednesday. On Thursday morning, I went to the back of the room to my trusty computer to take attendance and lunch count. Or so I thought. That darned Dell wouldn't log me on. It said 'incorrect password'. I've had my password for several years, and don't forget it. I checked to see if the caps lock was on, or that freaky numeral thing. Nope. A-OK. I sent a student to the NotACook's room to see if she could log on. Oh, yes. And she came to my room to explain that when she filled in for me 7th hour, a student came in and said TechLady wanted to be sure I knew that she had accidentally changed my password, and that it was now ANNOUNCE OUT LOUD. Hmm...I asked if that was with caps or not. NotACook didn't know. I tried that password.

And... I got a message that my account had been locked, and a report was being sent. Well, now. That's a fine How Do You Do when you need to get on there and report attendance and lunch count. So I wrote a note and sent it to TechLady. Not with the most trustworthy of students, but with one I enjoyed being rid of for a few minutes. Because it's all about pleasing myself, you know. When he returned, he reported it had been unlocked, and my new password was ANNOUNCE OUT LOUD. Yep. There it was. Written on the back of the note. An unstapled, untaped note, naked for all to see. So now, we're at a count of approximately 35 students, plus anybody the message-bearer encountered in the hall, knowing Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's password. The one she uses to...umm...enter grades and report attendance. So anybody faster than Mrs. Hillbilly Mom to log on could change the password to their own deep, dark secret, and have their way with Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's data.

I was not a happy camper. I didn't even feel like camping. Who can camp, worrying about students changing their grades willy-nilly, and resetting their perfect attendance? It would be like those born-again abstinent virgins, or whatever they call themselves, who get a ring and pledge no sex (anymore) until marriage. How dare somebody accidentally change my password! What was she doing in my records, anyway? This new system won't let us look up anything but our own grades. I smell a conspiracy.

I told the kids I needed to have a word with TechLady at the lunch table. There might be a rumble. One of them asked, "Is there going to be a sword fight?" Which gave me pause, because TechLady is known to bring a very long and shiny butcher knife to lunch, to cut the cheese and smoked meat product that she ingests. So I told him, "No. I will have a few words with her if she doesn't have the knife. If she does, I will pick another time when she is unarmed."

I rushed to the lunch line at the bell to get my vegetable soup. It's the first time we've had it this year. With greasy, crunchy grilled cheese sandwiches. I might have elbowed a few kids out of the way, but I was in a hurry. I had to get my soup and set it out to cool while I returned to my room for a bottle of water. And there was TechLady coming up the hall, right by my room. I asked if she had her knife. "No. It's still in my refrigerator." Aha! I grasped my window of opportunity by the horns and let her have it. She again apologized for accidentally changing my password. But she gave no explanation as to how it happened, or why she did everything but fly my new password up the flagpole and call a Meet Me At The Pole assembly.

Thank the Gummi Mary that a 2nd hour student told me how to go in and change my password once I was logged on again. Another bullet dodged by Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.

4 comments:

Mary said...

Hey Lebinda, I continue to be thoroughly entertained by reading your blog everyday and just wanted to say hello. I sent you an email the other day and just wondered if you received it or not. Didn't know if you still had the same email account or not. Drop me a line at my email account if you still have it. Would love to catch up with you.
C ya, Le Bean

Hillbilly Mom said...

Beanie,
How good to hear from you! I thought I had bored you into submission long ago.

Now for my excuses. I do indeed still have the same email address. My mail client server thingy has changed hands, and now it's all fancied up, and it takes a long time to load my email. Some evenings I dread opening ol' Pandora. I am currently the proud owner of 189 unread emails. I just skimmed through them at the speed of snail and found your shocking saga. I will email you forthwith (or maybe tomorrow), and we will catch up like it was yesterday.

Here's an odd coincidence: I was actually thinking about you that day you sent the email. My son had loaded my music from my old computer onto my new Delly, and I randomly played a certain disco song that was OH SO POPULAR with our crowd. And it wasn't Music Box Dancer.

Mary said...

Geez....I was thrilled to hear back from you! That is a little eerie that you would think of me on the same day I sent you an email...like that say, great minds think alike, huh?
Can't wait to read your email...there's so much to catch up on, ya know? I also can't wait to hear what song made you think of me....was it "I think I love you" by the Partridge Family???? Tee hee! Talk soon.... :)

Hillbilly Mom said...

Mary,
You are quite contrary! No, that was not the song. That's how rumors get started, you know. Keep messin' with me, and I'll be forced to tell about that paper you wrote that caused Dr. Doll Hair to call you in for a private chat.

Make a Note To Self: 'The Partridge Family did not sing disco.' And here's another clue: it was not a song from Evita.

I see your psychic abilities are still operating, even at your advanced age. You did have ONE word of the song title correct. And now, we shall move this little discussion to the email arena, before I have to trash can all my comments. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, haven't you found?

I am looking forward to hearing tales of your new paramour, who is apparently my long-lost brother. Who knew?