I could sit down and write an entry about New Year’s stuff, reso-illusions and such, but I’m actually working on one of them right now and really oughtn’t use this journal
(which I’ve been neglecting anyway - hmm, another reso-illusion perhaps?)
as a diversionary tactic.
However, the reso-illusion I’m currently working on is the quest to tame the ever-growing piles of papers on every horizontal surface of my house. I have a serious need to start a (actually yet another) filing system to tame the multitudinous-paper-headed hydra. I must learn to sort and file the important stuff (where the hades are all those things I need for tax purposes) and, almost as importantly, I need to toss massive piles of less than importance.
Which brings us to this pass on my desk.
After I write it here I will toss it and get back to my life, one sheet lighter.
Yellow paper, half sheet, the header “PASS TO CLASS - FROM THE OFFICE.”
Since I write so many of these daily, I have the whole thing automated on my computer. I type in the boy’s name, the reason he requires the pass, and then hit a macro I wrote for pass issuance. The computer fills in the date, time, class period, the student’s ID number, and my automated signature. It also pops out a second copy for my records because the goofballs who need passes will have been marked absent by their teachers and I will have to reconcile those reported absences against those boys who are actually accounted for. I might remember the boys I’ve written passes for were it not for the fact that so much happens in my office so quickly.
(My current record for passes is 73 in 15 minutes.
This proves two things: 1) I’m good, damn good,
and 2) You’re not so much thinking I’m a nut for automating my passes anymore, are you?)
Anyway, the pass in question was for Daniel, a frequently late freshman who tries my patience on a daily basis. Hence the rather lengthy note in the reason section. I mean, if I’m going to have to write the note anyway, and I happen to have the moment to spare, I might as well enjoy it.
“Daniel was dawdling at his locker, yet again, and requested this note so that he could arrive impolitely late to your class. It took me several minutes to decide whether to write him a pass or beat him with a big stick. It was an extremely hard decision, but this pass is evidence that I no longer have the strength and stamina of my youth. I simply could not muster up enough energy to beat him properly.”
The pass was returned to my mailbox later in the day with a note from Mr. Porter, Daniel’s algebra teacher.
“I was disappointed to learn that your advancing age has rendered you incapable of fulfilling your duties as both Attendance and Disciplinary Secretary. Beatings of students being outside the contractual duties of teachers, perhaps one of the coaches could be deputized as an Assistant Disciplinarian to take on the essential boy-beating which cannot be overlooked in its importance to running this fair institution of higher learning. I am certain Coach Martola would prove both impressively capable and excessively enthusiastic in the proposed position. Just a thought.”
Have I ever mentioned how much I enjoy working with Mr. Porter? He’s my kind of quiet crazy.
Okay, enough diversionary tactics.
I need to toss the pass (now that it’s immortalized here) and get back to filing / land filling.
Happy New to you!
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