Monday, April 11, 2011

Santa Swiper Gets His Comeuppance

Some people just don't get it.

Second hour, another teacher sent a minion to repossess two of her pencils from students in my classroom. That wouldn't happen if she'd only make them leave her a shoe, or their phone, or a red plastic monkey on her desk when they borrow. But I'm not here to enlighten colleagues on the proper way to a smart lender be.

The point is that one of those students it the dude who kidnapped Santa Claus. And says that Santa is at his house, though I have serious doubts. Santa is more likely in several slivered pieces at the bottom of the landfill by now, having cruised out of Newmentia on the tendrils of a dust mop, up onto a dustpan, down that slippery slide into a black trash bag, doubled into a bigger black trash bag, carried on the shoulder of the custodian out back, and tossed into the green dumpster behind the cafeteria.

The Santa Swiper had the nerve to come to me and ask to borrow a pencil. Because, you see, the one he had was taken by his previous hour's teacher. Never mind that it was hers to start with. Not one to throw good wood after bad, nor The Gingerbread Man after Santa, I refused. After suffering ten minutes of whining at the voice of Swiper, I pointed to a yellow pencil that I found on the floor the day before. It was broken in half. Somebody had taped it together. "Use that. It's all I'm going to loan you, because you still have Santa." Swiper grabbed it and scurried back to his desk to complete one-third of the assignment.

At the end of class, I had to tell him to bring me my pencil.

"Can't I keep it?"
"But it's not yours."
"It's certainly not YOURS."
"But you said you found it."
"That's right. I found it. Not you."
"I need it."
"You always need a pencil."
"See? So I should keep it."
"Put it on my desk."
"I don't know why your have to be so selfish."
"Because if I'm not, I won't have anything left."

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