Today a smidgen of a girl came knocking on my classroom door. The class in which standardized test scores reflect on my job performance. The kid sitting closest, even though he's on crutches, jumped up to let her in.
"Mrs. Hillbilly Mom? Can I talk to you a minute?"
"Well...you're not going to get me all the way over there and then say, 'I have some gum to give to two people in your class' are you?"
"NO! That wasn't her! That was--"
"I KNOW who that was! I'm trying to make a point. This better be something important."
I stepped out into the hall. Don't worry. I carry my keys in my pocket. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is not going to be beholden to a crutch-boy to let her back into her own classroom.
"Um. Can I hide in your classroom tomorrow during this hour?"
"Well...I guess so. For a class?"
I thought she might be there for ten or fifteen minutes while people were trying to track her down. Kind of like those drills where kids are deliberately hidden for safety procedure refinement.
"I need to do it for my Public Speaking class. I have to record what people say all hour. But they can't see me."
"Wait a minute! I'm giving a test tomorrow. Nobody will be talking all that much. Besides, I don't have anyplace you can hide where they can't see you."
"Some teachers are letting kids get under desks, or in the closet."
"The only desk where you would be mostly hidden would be under MY desk, and I'll be sitting there. My closet is a section of the wooden cabinets, and it's full of stuff. Sorry. I don't think it will work out."
"Okay. I'll ask someone else."
Technically, this little gal is a very little gal. A Polly Pocket, almost. And if push came to shove, she would probably fit onto the bottom shelf of the left cabinet where my books had been stored. But I'm not putting a little girl in my cabinet for fifty minutes. I have no desire to be on the evening news if something goes down.
Public Speaking, indeed! Sounds more like Private Snooping to me.
Mrs. Hillbilly Mom doesn't roll that way.