“Would you like to get something from the snack cart?” my principal asked, poking her head into our classroom. The class was sitting in front of me on the carpet, and I’d just started our math lesson, but apparently it was time for the monthly snack cart.
I work in a school where the PTA spoils us on a regular basis. One example is the snack cart, which wends its way down the halls about once a month. It’s a multi-layered cart filled with coffee, tea, fruit, and an array of tasty treats. Administrators cover our classrooms while we grab something tasty or caffeinated, and students typically moan about the unfairness of it all.
As a side note, it had already been a … well, let’s just call it a story-filled morning. Assembly alone was worthy of a meaty slice. As we lined up to go, a student lost a tooth (yes–we were late), a fly buzzed my class all during assembly (clearly targeting the most impulsive (SMACK!) and the most sensitive, “Oh, no! Don’t hurt it!“) and the band was next door discordantly practicing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” (distraction much?). Then, when racing to use the bathroom during recess, I had somehow failed to lock the staff bathroom door (“Oh, hi, Rob!”–definitely another small moment story!). In other words, I was in dire need of a treat!
“Sure!” I said. I gave her a brief synopsis of what we were doing, and left it all in her capable hands.
I walked out of my classroom to see the cart parked at the turn in the hallway. As I approached, my friend and colleague came into view from the other hallway.
“Hey, M,” I stage whispered, “Let’s make a break for it!”
She laughed and we met at the cart.
“Who’s in your room?” I asked, and we continued to chat idly about who was covering our class, which treats looked the best, etc.
Suddenly from down the hallway, “Mrs. Hogan?”
Holding my selected pastry and a coffee, I turned to see one of my students coming out of our classroom and into the hall.
“Mrs. Hogan,” she repeated, “Your microphone is on. We can hear everything you’re saying.”
I looked down at my chest to see the tell-tale blue light at the top of the microphone.
Oops!
My friend burst out laughing. My jaw dropped and my mind frantically replayed our conversation, trying to ascertain what inappropriate things I might have said other than, “Let’s make a break for it!”
Did I forget to tell you that our school has a sound system in each classroom? Apparently, I had forgotten about it as well. We all wear lanyards with microphones that project our voice from all parts of the room. The idea is that seating doesn’t impact what students hear. Also, when I turn my back to the class to write something on the board, they can all hear me just as clearly as if I were facing them. Another important component of the system is to turn the microphones off when you’re speaking to an individual student… or (note to self!) when you decide to make random comments to colleagues in the hallway.
My student disappeared back into the classroom to rejoin her peers and the principal. I only wished I could disappear as easily.
Sigh… it was going to be a long day.
