A Dastardly Deed Soils The Hallowed Halls Of Hillmomba

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has always championed the Hillmomba School District. From Elementia to Basementia to the hallowed halls of Newmentia, she has sung the praises they so richly deserve. Have they not made geniuses of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's spawn? Even though the Hillbilly family resides and pays taxes in a larger school district, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has faithfully lugged her young 'uns to be schooled in the Hillmomba district, where she is employed. She believes in their mission. In their quest. In the methods they utilize to achieve their goals. They are a school of distinction, you know.

These days you can't turn on the news, peruse the internet, or pick up a paper without hearing about problems facing the schools of today. Shootings, stabbings, poisonings, assaults, bullying, stealing, cheating, back-talking, biting Pop Tarts into the shape of a gun...educational institutions are rife with shocking incidents of rule-breakage. The Hillmomba district, specifically Newmentia, has been spared the problems of today's teenage society. Newmentia kids follow rules. Treat their fellow students with respect. Turn in homework. Defer to teachers. Absorb information (though sometimes reluctantly) that will enable them to graduate. To make their way in the world.

Cue that skipped needle on a vinyl LP on a retro record-player.

Newmentia houses a ne'er-do-well. There. I said it. The sky has clouded over so that the rainbows are invisible, and the unicorns are heading for the hills.

The incident is virtually indescribable. But I shall try.

Last week, a most hideous occurrence rocked Newmentia to its very core. Students are still talking about it. The subject matter is not for the weak of heart, nor the queasy of stomach. Read ahead at your own risk. Don't go suing me for causing you suffering, or I'll give you something to suffer about.

My plan time is 2nd hour. I work in my room. I make my rounds to the copier and mailbox and faculty women's restroom. Sometimes I pop into the office for verification of instructions, or counselor's office with a hope of gaining better student understanding, or preventing problems before they occur. To get to these places, I must walk past a storage room, the boys' bathroom, the drinking fountain, the janitors' closet, the girls' bathroom, the teacher workroom, the athletic director's office, the nurse's office, and a giant trophy case. I must walk by them in reverse order on my way back.

On Friday, I returned to my room around 9:30 a.m. I graded some makeup work. Got my lesson ready for the next class period. Chewed some sugar-free gum. Checked my cell phone for texts from my best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel. Then time was up. The bell rang, and I stepped out into the hall to monitor traffic. As I glanced to the right, I saw a wad of something on the hallway floor in front of the drinking fountain. Huh. Kids can be such animals. It looked like a wad of spent chew. Shame. The morning custodian had just been there, cleaning our end, her closet door propped open for easy access to her supplies. She was not going to be happy about this.

Little did I know...she was REALLY, REALLY not going to be happy about this.

Kids were coming down the hall toward me. I spied an older ginger fellow, on the Smartypants team with The Pony. "Hey, Ginger, what's that on the floor?" I did not have my glasses on. I could not quite be sure. It looked like chew to me, which meant I was not going to scoop it up like it was a paperwad and dispose of it. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom does not do spit.

Ginger glanced at it as he went by. "It's a turd." He turned to look again. "Yep. It's definitely a turd. That's a turd." The mob kept moving. A girl on Ginger's right. protected from the offending object like a lady on the inner side away from the street during a Middle Ages jaunt, rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, no. Not again."

WHAT? What was THAT supposed to mean? NOT AGAIN?

I was flabberghasted. A staffer came walking toward me from the other direction. "Did you see the custodian? One of you go tell her we need a clean up." She stopped at my door. "This is not the first time. We have had this problem already down at the other hall. We can't catch them."

"What do you mean, you can't catch them? There are cameras all over this building! It happened between 9:30 and 10:00! Go review the tapes! At least you can see what direction they came from. And their feet. You can ask teachers who was out of class during 2nd hour. It shouldn't be hard to catch the depositor."

At this writing, The Defecator remains at large.