As you might surmise from previous tattle tales, there is no love lost between Mrs. Hillbilly Mom and Cus. Just the name sets me on edge. I think of it as CusCusCusCusCus. Like Popeye's laugh. Only not happy. As in not a happy camper.
You've yet to hear the rest of the story, with photo evidence. I can't squeeze all that into a weeknight post. But I can relate the latest little bit of Cusdom.
As I sat minding my own business, trying to enter tomorrow's assignments in my computer gradebook program, waiting for The Pony to finish with his Smartypants Team practice...Cus paraded back and forth past my door. Not once. Not twice. THRICE! That's three times down, and three times back. Wheeling the big cart holding mop water and a trash bin. JUST GET IT OVER ALREADY!
Cus entered my room. Dumped the wastebasket. And said, "I know this is probably a mistake to try and do this now, but it's looking pretty junky." And proceeded to go up and down the rows scraping junk out of the desks. Which Cus has pointedly not done since I refused to rearrange my furniture. In fact, I clean out those desks as needed. Just this afternoon, I threw away a returned assignment, and an empty water bottle. Sure, there might have been a sucker stick (thanks, NHS, for taping a mini Tootsie Pop to every student locker for Easter) and...I don't know what else. Because I cleaned out what I saw, except for the sticky stick, which requires a
My point is that I see no need for the editorializing. Just scoop them out if you're gonna, and don't insinuate that my room is filthy because I'm a bad teacher. Not unless you want me to say, "Yeah. You haven't been cleaning them out for a while."
The old custodian never cleaned out a desk. I don't expect it. I'll do it myself if it gets to be a problem. I especially don't need to be trash-shamed for your job while I'm working at MY job.
One of these days, you'll get the full expose.