Homeroom

I have the best homeroom ever. I love them all dearly and I think they like me too. This last Thursday was the last day of the quarter and on Wednesday, I worked through my prep hour to get my grades entered so I wouldn't have to stay late Thursday and all afternoon Friday. I had my lunch while I worked, which basically consisted of my usual peanut butter on bread, a granola bar, water and, since I found about 75 cents in change that morning, a soda too.

After my kids came back from lunch for homeroom, I remembered that I should have gone to the bathroom before they came back. Cute as they are, they sat down and waited for me to make my announcements. Of course the only one I had was that I had to go to the bathroom because I don't know how to manage my time yet or that I have the smallest bladder known to man. Lisa, I know what you're thinking, and no, it wasn't as bad as the night in Rick Beach's class (but it was close).

I told my class that I had to go to the restroom and I was trusting them to behave and that I didn't want to come back and find someone "dead on the floor or taped to the wall." I did actually say that.

I came back about a minute later to see two things: first, that every student in my class was lying on the floor pretending to be dead, and second, two students from another homeroom standing at the front of the room staring in disbelief at all the students face down on the floor. One of them turned to me and said, "What do you do in your homeroom?"