Is That A Man In Your Ceiling, Or Are You Just Glad To See Us?

Thank the Gummi Mary nobody asked that question today. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom did not try to elicit such a query. As with most things that occur in her classroom, it just happened. IT. Not the IT Elaine was lamenting when she went on a date with somebody Jerry recommended, and gave him a recap later which included the phrase, “He took it out.” Not-heaven NO! The IT in this equation was a bright orange 10-foot ladder with the legs of a 5-foot man protruding from the ceiling tile space.

IT all started with a drip. A drop. Three, to be exact.

“Mrs. Hillbilly Mom? Um. Something just hit my arm. Something wet. It did that a minute ago. Three times it hit me. And there’s a drop on the floor.”

“Do you think it is something dripping from the ceiling?”

“Yes. If you look, there is something in the corner of that light above me.”

“Let me call the office.”

“Why?”

“To let them know something is dripping from the light fixture. They will send Mr. Principle or Curly down here.”

“Really? Are you just saying that? Why would Mr. Principal come look at it?”

“To see if it’s bad enough to call Curly over here.”

“Oh!”

Of course Curly was called, because even though there were just a few drops falling on a pupil’s arm…liquid in a light is nothing to sneeze at. Curly first stepped up on a student chair to lift the ceiling tile. He peered around. Left for a ladder. Climbed to the top and looked some more. Took that ladder and came back with Big Orange. Disappeared up inside the ceiling except for his legs. That’s when the bell rang.

Of course Curly had asked me, upon his first peep from the pupil chair, “When is your plan time?”

“Oh, it’s during the lunches. From 10:53 until 12:14. A long time.”

Of course Curly came right back, and fiddled about for 2^nd and 3^rd hour. I barely saw him until the end of my plan time. The last 10 minutes.

“I’m going to have to call somebody.”

“So…when might that be?”

“I hope to get it done today.”

“Oh. If it was going to take until next week, I’d want that ladder out of here. It blocks one whole side of the room. How will kids get to their seats? Walk under it?”

“You want me to take my ladder?”

“Well, if you don’t mind. Because it blocks the aisle. And the file cabinet. And the cabinet with paper and glue and markers and scissors and rulers.”

“Okay. I’ll take it out of here. You never know what kids are going to get into. I was one myself. They might be climbing on it if you’re out of the room for five minutes.”

Yep. You never know what kids are going to get into. So tell me, WHY IS THE DOOR TO THE CUSTODIAN CLOSET PROPPED OPEN ALL THE LIVE-LONG DAY? The door that blocks people walking down the hall, causes collisions between the two bathrooms, and invites pupils to wander inside the closet and drink the cleaning fluids?

Yeah. My room will be as safe as I can make it. Even if it’s inconvenient for Curly.