Start of class on that day equals chaos.
Throwing papers at me.
Shouting questions.
I feel as though I’m on Wall Street at a stock exchange.
Claustrophobia sets in.
Panic.
Demand they sit down. Attempt to start class.
My classroom door opens. I’m looking at two cops.
“There is a fire in your class,” one calmly announces as he shuts the door.
Thought 1—Not cops. Firemen.
Thought 2—A fire? Where? Why?
Thought 3—So that’s what the firemen look like.
Thought 4—Fire drill. I’m supposed to pull the fire alarm.
At this point students have resurrounded me.
Redemand they return to their seats.
Think.
Fire protocol has completely escaped me.
Announce as calmly as possible to Mrs. S. that there is a fire in the room.
She freaks out.
Forget to tell her about the firemen just repeat that there is a fire.
She spots the firemen. Freaks out more.
Realizes she doesn’t know where the fire alarm is and begins lifting papers off the walls.
Dashes into the hall.
Kids resurround me.
They try to exit the building. Like a good teacher I stop them.
Blaring noise.
Realize it is the fire alarm and have kids exit class.
Attempt to keep them together.
Am informed about 20 times that I “blend right in”.
Fireman informs me kids burned to death since I didn’t evacuate them.
Think of their attempts to leave the classroom.
Congratulate myself since they listened to me.
Question whether or not my grading was destroyed in the fire.
Fireman doesn’t think this is funny.
Informs me the school failed the fire drill.
Reenter classroom.
Attempt to make up for lost time.
It’s too late my kids are grumpy because I let them all burn to death.
Rather I put it to good use and built myself a fort.
Literally, I have a small forest that sits before me.
It makes me sad.
I donate a dollar to the “Save the Rainforest” campaign.
