I Can't Wait To Hear What My Mama Says

Mama never said there'll be days like this. "There'll be days like this," Mama never said.

I was working past 3:00 today
Everything was going fine
Went to make my copies before I left
And then I almost lost my mind

Mama never said there'll be days like this
"There'll be days like this," Mama never said
(never said, never said)
Mama never said there'll be days like this
"There'll be days like this," Mama never said

My eyes were wide open
But all that I could see was
The copier locked up in the teacher workroom
That made my blood boil 'cause

Mama never said there'll be days like this
"There'll be days like this," Mama never said
(never said, never said)
Mama never said there'll be days like this
"There'll be days like this," Mama never said

This stuff happens when Cus is left alone
With no boss to keep Cus in check
Schools should be for teachers
To do their daily work
Not a gallery to hang...the Rembrandt of a custodian's work

ohhh

Mama never said there'll be days like this
"There'll be days like this," Mama never said
(never said, never said)
Mama never said there'll be days like this
"There'll be days like this," Mama never said

Ser-i-ous-ly. What hath the Hillmomba school board wrought? There is cleanliness, and then there is obsession. I can't wait to call my mom tonight and fill her in on the latest atrocities foisted upon me by Cus. This is not normal. Mom will be flabbergasted and discombobulated. Such shenaniganning never occurred back in her day. Mom was a teacher, you know. For 25 years, more or less. A master of fourth grade knowledge. And never once, I'm sure, was she ever locked out of her very own teacher workroom (no doubt called the lounge back in her day) and kept from completing her work after school.

I should have seen the writing on the wall (note to self: get someone to write on the wall to keep Cus busy until I've made my copies for the next day) when I came in from my duty this afternoon. It doesn't take all that long. High school kids are quick to exit the parking lot. I walked back in and saw that the big brown four double doors were closed, blocking off Mabel's old end of the building. Heh, heh. I said, "Mabel's old end!" This was a curious situation, since only one teacher had left for the day, the rest of us remaining captive until the official staff dismissal time.

I made my way to the teacher workroom to visit the little teacher's room. By the time I came out, the double doors down at my end were closed. A young 'un belonging to a teacher down there could not get back to her mom. "Help me! Can somebody help me get through?" Mrs. Not-A-Cook backtracked to assist, but just then a student burst through from the push-bar side and let the little gal pass.

The Pony was waiting for me with the bill of highway robbery for his class ring. I sat down to finish my work for the day. I needed to type up a page of study material for my kids to review for their final next Tuesday. Many want to have it over the weekend. Okay. Maybe not MANY, but the ones who started crying during their EOC test for another subject sure want it. I finished typing, drew on the pH scale by hand, and told The Pony, "I'll be right back. I'm going to make my copies so they're ready to hand out first hour. Then we'll go."

The hall was eerie, all locked up with me in the middle. I pranced the lighthearted gait of a teacher after school down the mid-hall to the teacher workroom. Uh oh. The door was closed. That doesn't happen very often. I tried it. Locked up tighter than Mabel's metal cabinet full of rulers, scissors, and giant glue sticks that she told me would be there if I ever needed them. It was scarcely an hour after final bell. What if I had needed to wash my hair in the sink of the women's faculty bathroom? What if I was feeling a bit...indisposed? Was I supposed to go in the student restroom? The one with no door except a concrete block maze? Sure, there are stalls inside. But there are also students. I prefer the twain never to meet.

Now I have to make my copies before school tomorrow. When procrastinators are lined up at the Kyoceras while lazier procrastinators are shooting commands to print from their computers. That's not the way it's supposed to be.

Something needs to be done. I'm going to ask for an intervention. There need to be limits on the cleanliness of Newmentia. I'm so riled up that I could just poop.

And drop it on the floor of the hall after 2:00 p.m.