A Cane-Wreath Ain't Safe In A Classroom Of Frosh

One more half-day of school until Christmas break!

Okay. The Truth in Blogging Law requires me to inform you that our last day of attendance is actually a four-and-a-half/sevenths day. We are not released until the middle of 5th hour. But still, we think we're gettin' a deal.

This being the last week, I have been the recipient of two Christmas cards, a gift bag (filled with a mug, a bag of Gummi Bears, two blue candy canes, plus a plastic ornament filled with assorted chocolate candies), and four short Tootsie Roll logs, a cherry Tootsie Pop, and a mini box of Dots. Scoff if you will, but we teachers of big kids rarely get any swag such as this.

Oh, and this morning, I found THIS on my desk:

That peppermint wreath was from NHS. Now I know why The Pony had to bring in two boxes of candy canes, which could only be classic, not Starburst or Jolly Rancher flavors and colors. Is it ironic that this is exactly how many candy canes The Pony brought?

So...there I was, still admiring my peppermint wreath, having laid it on the back table considering it takes up considerable room, which was not available in my private cabinet where random pupils are wont to forage through to check out textbooks while Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is away at jury duty...when the abomination occurred.

Yes. I had all of my pre-first-bell minutes, plus one class period to soak in the raw beauty of my wreath. Then the bell rang. My first hour pupils exited, and my second hour pupils entered. Simultaneously. They can't get enough of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. By the time three had come inside, one was already manhandling my magnificent peppermint wreath!

There he stood, a hulking figure with a baby face, one finger inserted into a peppermint hook, SPINNING MY WREATH LIKE IT WAS A WHIRLING DERVISH! Which made quite a racket on the rough-surfaced plastic table.

"IS THAT YOURS?" Sometimes, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom simply has to shout. And it has nothing to do with being heard.

"No."

"THEN GET YOUR HANDS OFF IT! Since when do I let you touch my stuff. Get away. That is just rude."

"Oh. Okay then."

Freshmen. THIS is why we can't have nice things.