Maximum Security

There is a problem child among our students this year. Not such a problem as the dude who faked the heart attack. A more pervasive, simmering, wear-us-down kind of problem child. Let's call her Pippi.

Pippi is not to be let out of class. Any time. For any reason. She is a traveler. A roamer. She has a list of excuses ten miles long.

I forgot my book.
I forgot my pencil.
I brought the wrong book.
I need to go to the bathroom.
I have to call home.
The office wants to see me.
I forgot which class I was going to.
I need to go to the bathroom to pull back my hair for the lab.
I don't have the right shoes. Guess I can't do the lab.
I don't like group work. Guess I can't do the lab.
I left my backpack in your room. Go unlock it. (while I was on duty after school)
I had an accident.
The nurse is going to call me out.
I have to go to the office to see if I ride the bus home.

You get the idea. Never mind that it is HIGH school, by cracky, and this chick is still having accidents. I call them on-purposes. She only did that once, with the male gym teacher. It's but another ploy to see if she can worm her way out of class. I have not let her toes cross my threshold yet. Once in, it's like maximum security. Which she might as well get used to now.

Yesterday, she started the bathroom crap. I told her that it was 7th hour. She'd just have to hold it until school was out. And if she had an accident, she would be on her way home anyway. She asked to go three times. "But I can't hoooold it!" I told her I thought she could. The entire faculty has been warned not to fall for this trick. Sometimes, I give her a job such as handing back papers, and she miraculously forgets that her bladder is exploding.

When the bell rang, I took my position in the hall, leaning against my doorway. Pippi walked down the hall, past the girls' bathroom, without even a sidelong glance. So much for her bursting bladder.