Redneck to English dictionary...

I will preface this following email thread by saying that there is a special exhibit at the museum and we have scholarships available to help schools pay to bus kids to see it.

The teacher in question is responding to the confirmation she received on Wednesday afternoon that her school had been selected for one of the busing scholarships.

Nora is one of my coworkers.

From: Teacher
Sent: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 5:28 PM
To: Deals
Subject: RE: texas history

Terrific! Now is that all that you will need for us to get rein versed for the buses?


From: Deals
Sent: Thursday, September 22, 2011 9:20 AM
To: Nora Lenhart
Subject: FW: texas history

What does her sentence below mean? Rein versed?


From: Nora
Sent: Thursday, September 22, 2011 9:32 AM
To: Deals
Subject: RE: texas history

reimbursed for the buses


From: Deals
Sent: Thursday, September 22, 2011 9:46 AM
To: Nora
Subject: RE: texas history

Seriously? THAT’S what it means? I’ve never heard that expression. I even googled it. Nothing.


From: Nora
Sent: Thursday, September 22, 2011 9:47 AM
To: Deals
Subject: RE: texas history

There is no Google translator for Redneck.

If you say "rein versed" with a thick Texas accent, it comes out sounding *almost* like "reimbursed".

No. Not kidding. Try it if you don't believe me.

This same teacher had also never heard of an invoice before today.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I wanted to.

She's teaching the youth of America, people!

Just some food for thought.

Even people raised in barns know better...

Let's assume for a moment you are hosting a teacher workshop at a local, history museum. The museum has given you the space for free.

The museum has a strict policy against having anything taped, tacked or otherwise adhered to the walls. For the sake of argument, let's make the museum an historic site and the building itself a work of art.

But you are busy with the business of teaching teachers, and have something "very important" that you really need to hang up. You remember the rule about not taping anything to the walls, but the museum never said anything about the murals.

So, yeah, you hang your "very important" poster board to the nearly 80 year old, priceless work of art in the room using masking tape. And then you seem confused when the museum director completely freaks the f*ck out.

I mean, what's the big deal, right?

(I SWEAR, WHAT IS WRONG WITH SOME PEOPLE?!)

Why I don't get paid enough to deal with teachers...

Today I had to call a DISD elementary school about a program voucher that is scheduled to expire at the end of the month.

All names and places have changed to protect the identities of those involved. However, for simplicity's sake, let's call the school "Mooseville Elementary" and the teacher "Alice Hooverton".

[Ring, Ring, Ring]

Receptionist: "Mooseville Elementary."

Me: "Hi. Is Alice Hooverton available?"

Receptionist: "One moment please."

I thought the receptionist was going to transfer me, so I was surprised to realize that I was on hold. Except she forgot to hit the HOLD button, so I was essentially left sitting on her desk listening to all the school-related gossip and drama. In the twenty minutes - yes, TWENTY minutes - that I was on hold I learned a variety of interesting facts. Like, for instance, the receptionist had a cold but didn't want to go to the doctor. The rest of the office seemed to agree that the longer the sick receptionist stuck around, the more likely that she would infect the entire school just in time for Thanksgiving. There was much snarkiness, but either the receptionist didn't care or was oblivious to the feelings of her coworkers.

SImilarly, I was privy to all the details surrounding some trivial feud between a couple of 4th grade teachers. Who knew adults could be so juvenile.

Finally, however, the receptionist realized that I was still on the line. This was accomplished when she went to make a call to order lunch, and I WAS STILL THERE!

Receptionist: "Hello?"

Me: "Oh, hi. I am holding for Ms. Hooverton."

Receptionist: "You are still on the line?!"

Me: "Um...yeah. You told me to hold."

Receptionist: "Oh, sorry. I'll transfer you right now."

And that is when she transferred me to an extension that was no longer in use, and I was promptly disconnected.

So I called back.

Receptionist: "Mooseville Elementary."

Me: "Hi. I was just holding for Ms. Hooverton, and was accidentally transferred to a line that has been disconnected."

Receptionist: "Oh, yeah. I am sorry about that. It is just that there is not a Ms. Hooverton at this school."

Me: "Oh...?"

Receptionist: "It is hard to transfer you to someone that doesn't work here, you know."

Me: "Right. Well, see I have an AP voucher that is scheduled to expire at the end of the month for a 'Patrick Henry' performance. I just need the approval code to keep the voucher 'alive' after the end of the month. Is there someone that might have that information?"

Receptionist: "Well, why didn't you say so? Let me put you on hold for a second while I ask around the office."

Me: "Um, okay."

This time I really was on hold, but only for about ten minutes. When she returned:

Receptionist: "Hello?"

Me: "Hi. I am still here."

Receptionist: "I am sorry to tell you this, but there isn't a Patrick Henry teaching here either."

Me: "Wait. What? No, no. The program is called 'Patrick Henry! I was looking for a Ms. Hooverton or a teacher that could give me the approval code for voucher number [blah, blah, blah]."

Receptionist: "Oh well, Ms. Hooverton works for BT and is only here a couple of times a week."

Me: "But she does work there?"

Receptionist: "Oh, yeah. She's just not here now."

Me: "Okay, um, well, is there anyone else that might have the AP approval code? The 'Patrick Henry' program is usually booked for 5th grade history students. Is there a 5th grade history teacher that might have that sort of information?"

Receptionist: "Any 5th grade history teacher?"

Me: "Well, I'd prefer one that might know the voucher approval code."

Receptionist: "Hmmm...why don't I just get Ms. Hooverton to call you back?"

Me: "See...you told me she didn't work there earlier, so - I am sorry - I am just a little confused."

Receptionist: "Well, that is what we do when people call for her."

Me: "Oh?"

Receptionist: "So...you want to leave her a message?"

There are many things wrong with this conversation. But - for me - the worst was when Ms. Hooverton called me back THREE DAYS LATER and left a message on my voicemail. And, in her message, she only gave me the voucher number - which I already knew - but forgot the all important approval code. So I am really no better off than I started. Hence, the title of this post.

Bleh...

And somedays it is like this...

Overheard at the museum this morning:

• Upon entering the building:
  
  Teacher: "Attention, students! Absolutely NO flashing of gang signs while in the museum."



• While on tour:
  
  Me: "Who can name the six flags that have flown over Texas?"
  
  Students: "..."
  
  Texas History Teacher: "San Antonio?"

Proceed with caution...

Rode around on a school bus today with 40+ high school students.

One girl told me that she had just gotten her drivers license. Not two minutes later, upon arriving at a blinking red light, the same girl asked me why the bus driver was stopping at the intersection.

High School Student: “Why is he stopping? Blinking lights just mean the light is broken. You are just supposed to, like, proceed with caution. You don’t have to stop! Everyone knows that!”

Everyone should avoid driving in Flower Mound for the foreseeable future.

On teachers (or at least teachers that work over the summer)...

Teachers are insane. Or maybe I’m insane for dealing with them. Or at least the ones crazy enough to still be working in July. Whatever happened to summer vacation?

STORY I: A certain school had a program in April that was partially funded by a group called AP. AP paid for just over half of the $250 fee. The school was responsible for the rest. I was promised repeatedly that the money was coming, but the school’s half never arrived. So, I started sending firm letters to the school’s principle. This resulted in a check being cut for the amount in question. Unfortunately for us, the check was made out to AP and mailed to AP’s parent group, BT - even though the invoice was from my museum and clearly stated that all checks should be made out to us and sent to OUR mailing address.

Oh, and since the AP and BT offices are run by a bunch of monkeys, the money has gone astray.

STORY II: A teacher wants us to coordinate bus tours for two groups of middle schoolers in July and August. But she wants nothing to do with the planning and refuses to even choose a topic for the tour (note: we offer over 20 different tours, so I could use some help narrowing down an appropriate tour focus). Her last email literally said (and yes I am quoting here), “Sorry it took me a while to get back to you. I've been out of the office. Anyway, would it be alright if we looked to y'all to come up with a tour that would be best fit for the kids? You're the expert! So if we could just show up and enjoy that would be terrific!”

Really?!

STORY III: A summer camp wanted the museum to come out and teach the kids over a two week period, but they gave us very little heads up (they called us on Thursday for a camp scheduled to start on Tuesday). Thinking of it as an interesting challenge, a teacher friend of mine and I developed the curriculum, bought supplies and implemented the program for a small group of local middle school students.

Originally, the program’s cumulating event was scheduled for July 2nd, but then last week it was changed to July 1st. And on June 30th, it changed back to July 2nd. So, the summer camp’s obviously a well-organized machine. Right...I’m glad you are going along with me on that.

Anyway, we conducted videotaped interviews on Tuesday (yes, that would be June 30th, 2009), and I received an email late the same afternoon asking if the interviews would be edited and ready for public viewing on Thursday morning. I think the actual language was, “Will the interviews taped today be turned into a documentary for Thursday’s cumulating event for the parents?”

Um, no.

I wrote back saying that we had the technology to capture the interviews, but not to string them together and turn them into documentary films. Especially, on such short notice.

This prompted a phone call where the teacher asked if there was anything I would be able to show during Thursday’s event. For the children.

When did I become such a sucker?

Me: “I can probably have the rough footage available for the participating students and their parents to view Thursday morning. We just don’t have the technology to turn it into a documentary or proper video presentation in less than 48 hours.”

Teacher: “That’s fine. Can we project it on the big screen in front of the entire school?”

Me: “Um, I guess.”

Teacher: “Great! Do you have a projector?”

Me: “Actually, no. The museum just bought a Mac for this project, and we don’t have a projector that is compatible with it or an adapter. Do you have a Mac-ready projector we can use? Or a cord adapter?”

Teacher: “I think so.”

Me: “Okay, think we are good to go then.”

Teacher: “Great!”

Then, today, the teacher emailed me again asking if I could bring a projector. And a screen.

Whaaaaat? Wait a minute!

I wrote her back, and reminded her of my problem with the Mac and the compatibility problems with our projector. As for the screen, the museum has one, but its location (thanks to the renovations) is a bit of a mystery at the moment. I promised her I would look for it, though (which I did this afternoon with no luck).

I received an email back from the teacher stating that she forgot about the compatibility issue and would check around to see what she could come up with. She eluded to a couple of her coworkers that were Mac users and might have a projector or adapter I could borrow.

I brought the laptop home and have been working tonight to figure out the finer details of operating a Mac and iMovie (I’ve never used a Mac before, so there is a bit of a learning curve). While the Tuesday's interview footage was downloading, I logged into my work email and discovered yet another email from the lead teacher. It was time stamped at 7:30 PM:

“I think we have found a projector, but we need to know if you have a Mac cord.”

...?!?!

I wrote her back and explained (yet again) the problem with the Mac and the projector.

Of course, since my email was sent at 9:15 PM, it is doubtful that she’ll see it before tomorrow morning.

Did I mention that the museum is providing this entire program completely free of charge? No? Yeah. We are getting paid absolutely nothing to deal with this nonsense.

Awesome.

The good news is that the footage is downloaded and ready to be seen - if only from a computer screen. Hopefully, that will be enough for the students and their adoring parents. If I didn’t have to be at the school before 9 AM tomorrow morning, I would totally go and buy a stupid adapter for the museum’s projector.

Grumble, grumble…

The long, holiday weekend cannot come soon enough.

At which time I almost lost my faith in the public school system...

Yesterday, a group of 374 DISD middle school students came for a field trip. Within moments of exiting the bus, a 14 year old 6th grader did something so bad that a police officer had to come and escort the student off the park premises until his parents could be located and come to pick him up. He wasn’t allowed to enter any of the institutions on campus or have any contact with his classmates or teachers.

The incident occurred in the two minutes it took the students to get off the bus and walk to the museum’s front door. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Of course, since the student never actually made it into the museum, my involvement in the situation was extremely limited. I’m not even 100% sure I know what actually did (or did not) happen. Although, I heard several accounts from teachers about the event in question, so I have a pretty good idea of what transpired (think: weapons and/or drugs).

To make matters worse, the coordinating teacher had a near nervous breakdown immediately following the incident. Luckily, the other kids were in a performance by this point, and weren’t exposed to the hysterics taking place just outside the auditorium. On the verge of tears, the teacher told me that she, “Just can’t do this anymore.” Apparently, she’s been teaching for the district for years now, but no longer thinks she is making a difference in the lives of the students. According to her, a lot of the kids at her school already have substantial juvenile records. Some of the girls have had reputations since elementary school. Drugs, alcohol and gang violence are everywhere. She’s tried and tried again and again to get through to some of her most at-risk students (including the one who was being escorted around by a cop just outside the building), only to watch them arrested and convicted of a major crime before their 18th birthday and enter the Texas Penitentiary System.

Talk about depressing.

Of course, not all the students at her school are considered to be at-risk. In fact, some of the best elementary schools in DISD feed into this particular middle school, along with some of the most troubled. So the students are – literately – all over the place. Some function way above grade level while others are barely literate. It is an interesting mix. And I cannot imagine being responsible for teaching a group of students that represent both ends of the educational spectrum like that. What a daunting (not to mention near-impossible) task!

According to the teacher, she had excluded around seventy students from the field trip for failing grades, disciplinary issues or overall behavioral problems. However, 24 hours before the field trip was scheduled to take place, the principle announced that the teacher could not exclude students based on things like failing grades or behavioral misconduct. As a result, students (like the one who was being escorted around by the cop outside) were allowed to come along at the last minute. And what happened?...A major incident took place just outside the museum within moments of the bus arriving that morning.

It just isn’t fair to anyone involved. Not the teachers who have to deal with situations like these. Not the kids who have to witness their classmate being forcibly removed from the group by a police officer. Not even to the student who got in trouble and had to be separated. His past behavior strongly suggested that he lacked the skills and maturity to go on the field trip in the first place. I can appreciate the principal’s belief that no one should be excluded, but putting a kid into a situation like that is almost setting him up to fail. Plus, you have to have some system in place where kids learn that there are consequences for their actions. If you misbehave, if you get suspended from school, if you fail a class – all these things effect whether or not you will be able to go on the end of the year field trip (not to mention advance to the next grade). Saying you are going to enforce consequences and then not following through is teaching the wrong lesson and not benefiting anyone in the long run.

Sorry to go on and on. I was just deeply troubled by what I saw yesterday. I know these problems exist everywhere in schools across the country, but it is still hard to digest when confronted with situations like this head on. After all, they are just kids. Only in the sixth grade – most not even old enough to be considered “official teenagers”. And yet, here they are dealing with issues with no easy solution. No quick fix. Plus, this particular middle school happens to be the one in my neighborhood. It is a mere two blocks from my house. I pass these kids on my way to work everyday. If I had kids, this is the school they would attend.

It really makes you stop and think.

Is April over yet?

Is it possible that my bad luck will end at midnight tonight? Because I really hope it does. All this bad luck is giving me a headache.

Anyway, since my last post, the following has happened:

1. There really isn’t a good way of telling this story, except to simply come out with it: I was home alone and passed gas (There! I said it!). To rectify the smell situation, I decided to light a match. Simple enough, right? Well, apparently not. The next thing I remember was seeing the tiny, flaming match head flying toward my face (the paper match stem was still tightly pinched between my thumb and first finger, by the way). The ember landed, much to my horror and dismay, on my upper lip – leaving a small red mark at the point of impact (which vaguely resembled both a pimple and a cold sore at the same time). That wasn’t the best part, however. The tiny ball of fire also managed to singe my lip hair, cheek fuzz and eyelashes. Talk about adding insult to injury!

2. Was running late for early morning physical therapy appointment when I came across a man in a motorized wheelchair crossing the street. He was in a legal crosswalk, so I stopped my car and waited patiently for him to get to the other side. I kid you not – the guy stopped in front of my car and started cloud watching. Seriously! He was just staring up at the sky for no reason at all (yes, I looked! No planes. No birds. No nothing!). Briefly considered honking at the man, but decided against it. After all, he was in a freakin’ wheelchair! You don’t honk at people in wheelchairs! Plus, he was old and I was worried that the sound of my horn would send him into cardiac arrest or something ridiculous. Decided only recourse was to bang head repeatedly into steering wheel to relieve frustration (my head, not his).

3. Nicely asked child visiting museum to stop running, screaming and banging on the display cases. Nearly killed the little brat when he replied, “Yeah? Make me!” Best part?...His mom was standing right there and did NOTHING!

4. The museum’s foundation is a little…“iffy”. Consequently, the lecture hall doors stick a little from time to time. Managed to hit head with door while trying to liberate it from frame. Did this in front of a group of 4th graders who thought it was the funniest thing they’d seen. Ever.

5. Have lost keys. Twice. This is always a barrel of laughs first thing in the morning.

6. Am coming to the conclusion that I have both a bunion and planter fasciitis. Yes, I’m only 26. Am cursing the day I finally break down and call a podiatrist.

7. Was stood up by boyfriend Saturday night. This was fun...

8. Sustained abrasion on left forearm after being attacked by next door neighbor’s garage.

9. Got out of bed in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Ran into wall. Surprised to discover that one can actually “see stars” after something like this. Previously thought this was a phenomenon unique to cartoons.

10. Haskell spent the weekend coughing up all sorts of fun phlegm. Wasn’t so much of an issue during the day (except when said phlegm landed on the carpet), but severely limited amount of REM sleep for both dog and owner at night. After an early morning trip to the vet today, Haskell is on some serious horse-pills to treat his “upper respiratory infection”. Have decided that my dogs need to get jobs to help me pay for their vet bills. In the meantime, however, bought both Gypsy Kitty and Haskell a St. Francis medal to wear on their collars. Hopefully, this will help protect them from future health fiascos (at least until my bank account recovers from the past month and a half).

April showers bring May flowers, yes? Guess I’ll go to sleep and find out tomorrow. Here's to a happy May, everybody!!!

A story from a recent teachers' conference...

So, my museum partners every year with 8 other museums for an educators' conference, and this year was no different (well, other than the fact that I was able to somehow convince the representative from one of the science museums - who doesn't like to "share" - that we needed to split-up orientation at two museums (hers and mine)).

Anyway, on the day of the conference, everything was running surprisingly smoothly for the most part. We had over 700 teachers registered for the event, and half of them were starting out at my building. Therefore, the day had definite potential for...uh...not running smoothly.

At about 11 AM or so, the caterers stopped by to pick up the breakfast leftovers, so I accompanied them downstairs and helped them pack it all up. Then, I escorted them through one of our "secure" hallways to an employee entrance that was closer to their van.

All this, again, ran...smoothly.

And, then, things started to get, well, interesting...

After getting the caterers all squared away, I reentered the building. I was heading back upstairs, but stopped in the foyer of one of our downstairs exhibits to finish tiding up where the caterers left off. There seemed to be some sort of commotion over near the lecture hall (which was behind me), and when I turned around, I could see a large group of teachers huddled over near the stairs staring at something. Their backs were to me, so I couldn't see what they were looking at. However, I could hear it. Loud, hysterical wailing. Thinking that someone had fallen down the stairs, I immediately dropped everything and sprinted over to help (mistake number 1).

I pushed my way through the crowd to find a lady (teacher) on her cell phone. She was screaming at the top of her lungs and bawling (wailing). Everyone was staring at her.

It is important to note that the building I work in is made of marble. Hence, it echoes...badly (worst acoustics EVER). Therefore, this lady's hysterical screams were being broadcast all over the museum. Curious teachers were "rubbernecking" from everywhere - the stairs, the lecture hall, the downstairs exhibit. Everyone was just staring at her, which irritated me to no end. I mean, C'mon people, give her some room. She's upset, not a spectacle.

Anyway, upon seeing all of this, my first reaction was to get the poor woman into my office where she would be spared being the object of such intense curiosity. So, I began to try to "sign" to her with my hands in an effort to ask her if she would like to come with me to somewhere a little more...well...private. Great plan, right? In theory, maybe. Unfortunately, I forgot that not everyone KNOWS American Sign Language, so my effort was in vein. The Hysterical Teacher probably thought that I was just another (more energetic) rubbernecker.

About thirty seconds went by (yes, I was STILL signing at this point - I mean, what else was I going to do?) before The Hysterical Teacher abruptly got off the phone and (oh-so dramatically) threw herself down on a wood bench and burst into tears (we are talking whole-body-sobs here). Since this woman was essentially in a fishbowl, all the other teachers froze briefly before shifting slightly to accommodate The Hysterical Teacher's new location in the room. Heaven forbid any of them ACTUALLY comfort the hysterical woman or escort her to the bathroom. No, no...let's all do nothing and wait for her to do something "interesting" again (like call someone else and scream at them). Had none of these people ever had a problem in public before? Did they miss "how to be empathetic day" at school or something?

So, I did what I HOPE someone would have done for me (if I had been hysterically bawling in a public building somewhere): I took her somewhere private - my office. I swear I heard a disappointed *sigh* from the foyer "audience" when I did this. After all, I was essentially taking away their late-morning entertainment (as Not Peaches would say, "Asshats!").

Anyway, The Hysterical Teacher was about to hyperventilate, so I get her some water, tissues and ask if she would like to use the staff bathroom (which is not accessible to the public). I also inquired whether or not she was at the teachers' conference with anyone or if there was anyone that she would like me to find or contact for her.

However, I didn't get a response. Just more crying. I looked around the office and wondered what I would do if I run out of tissues (she was one of those 10-tissues-at-a-time people).

About seven minutes went by. I was doing my best to be supportive, which is always hard when the supportee is a complete stranger. So, I sat down next to her and just...well...waited for her to calm down.

A few more minutes went by before The Hysterical Teacher turned to me, and - with weapy eyes - thanked me for helping her.

"Sure. Anytime," I said.

(Mistake number 2)

Who knew that this simple sentence would open the flood gates of conversation (because I didn't)? Oh, if I could only go back and act more...more...unsupportive or something!

Anyway, it was at this point that the Hysterical Teacher decided to disclose to me why she was, in fact, hysterical.

Are you ready for this (because I wasn't)?

Apparently, the Hysterical Teacher's niece was just arrested for not one...

...not two...

...BUT - oh, yes - THREE counts of MURDER in the FIRST DEGREE!

I'm sorry...what?!

I remember swallowing really, really hard and wondering what I should do. Or say, for that matter.

This is how the conversation went:

ME: "Oh, my! Really?"

THE HYSTERICAL TEACHER (THT): [Screaming] "I know! Murder! Three counts of murder! Can you believe that?!"

ME: "Uh...no, actually, I cannot."

THT: "Me neither. It just doesn't make sense to me. She's a good girl and she's only 21 years old. Murderers aren't 21 year-old girls! They are poor people. Poor people from lower socio-economic levels. They aren't white, 21 year old girls from suburbia!"

ME: "Uh-huh." (The last thing I was going to do was DISAGREE with the woman. Especially now that she was getting all agitated!)

THT: "And you know what else?"

ME: "Uh...what?"

THT: "She was only trying to SURVIVE!"

ME: "Oh? Like self-defense?"

THT: "Yeah. Self-defense. She was only trying to protect herself and her stuff! After all, she lives only about two hours from New Orleans. I mean, what do you expect?!"

ME: "What?" (I was confused by her comment. I really didn't know where she was going with the whole "New Orleans" thing)

THT: "She HAD to go to New Orleans. She stole all that stuff after the hurricane so she could support herself! Jewelry buys a lot of stuff, you know. And it wasn't like anyone in New Orleans was using it!"

ME: "Uh...Right...Sure." (Again, I wasn't going to DISAGREE with her. I'm locked in the staff offices ALONE with this woman. She's hysterical and increasingly angry. The last thing I want to do is NOT agree with her. After all, murder runs in her family...!)

THT: "I mean, what would YOU do? What would you do if all these people showed up and tried to take it all back? You'd defend yourself and your stuff - wouldn't you?!"

ME: "Uh-huh."

THT: "I mean, she HAD to do it! Those three people were going to take it all away. She had to protect it! She had to protect herself!"

ME: "Uh-huh."

THT: "And now she is going to go to jail! And she's only 21! It just isn't fair!"

ME: "Uh-huh."

THT: "You understand, don't you?!"

ME: "Uh-huh."

THT: "She's a good girl. You believe me, right?"

ME: "Uh-huh. Of course."

[Long pause. The Hysterical Teacher bursts back into dramatic sobs.]

ME: "Uh...so, is there anyone I can go and find for you? Did you come with a friend? Or can I call someone for you?"

[In my head I was chanting, "Please, God. Please let this woman know someone that I can go and GET for her!" THT was seriously starting to scare me.]

THT: "[Sobbing] Dorothy. Please find my good friend, Dorothy. I need Dorothy. Dorothy will understand!"

[In my head, "THANK GOD!"]

ME: "Right. Dorothy. Got it. I'll go find her right now. Was she in your group?"

THT: [Nods forcibly and starts sobbing even louder.]

ME: "I'll be right back."

I ran from the office and out into the downstairs exhibit. There were at least 50 teachers in the gallery, and - not wanting to waste anytime (THT was ALONE in my office, after all) - I start calling out, "Dorothy! Dorothy! Is anyone here named, Dorothy?"

Finally, a woman stepped forward and identified herself as "Dorothy" (I almost fainted, I was SO relieved!).

"Can you please come with me," I ask?

"Sure. Is anything wrong," Dorothy inquired?

"Well, I think that your friend needs you. She seems pretty upset."

"My friend? I'm here alone."

"Uhmmm...you are here alone," I ask (trying to disguise my near panic)?

"Well, not alone exactly. I'm here with some of the other teachers from my school, but no one I'm really close with. No one I really consider a 'friend' anyway."

"How about (I describe The Hysterical Teacher)?"

"Oh, HER?! We're NOT friends. She's a new teacher at my school, and I introduced her around a bit. But we're NOT friends. Not even close! I think she's a little...well...off, if you ask me."

"Uhmmm...well, she is asking for you. I think that she thinks that you two are friends."

"Lord, no! She is crazy."

"Right. Well, crazy or not, she wants to see you and she is really upset."

"About what?"

"I think that she'd better tell you."

"[Sighing loudly] Fine. Take me to her."

"Okay. Follow me."

I ushered Dorothy into the staff offices and lead her to mine. The Hysterical Teacher was still...well...hysterical.

THT: "[Looking up and seeing Dorothy] Oh, Dorothy! Thank God!"

[The Hysterical Teacher jumps up and violently embraces Dorothy. Dorothy looks a little more than "mildly uncomfortable". THT proceeds to tell Dorothy everything that she had just - minutes before - told me. Dorothy shot a look at me that read, "What have you gotten me into, here?!" Poor Dorothy.]

Dorothy: [In a voice that can only be described as deadpan] Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

THT: "Tell me what to do!"

Dorothy: "Okay. Go home."

THT: "[Tearing up again] I cannot! I need the CPE credits!"

Dorothy: "What is more important to you? CPE credits or your family?"

THT: "Oh, Dorothy! Don't ask me that! I need the credits..."

Dorothy: [Interrupting] "...and your niece needs you, doesn't she?"

THT: "Yes, but I need my credits!"

Dorothy: "Get them later on."

THT: "But I need them NOW! [Turning to me] Do you offer half day credit?"

ME: "No, ma'am. We don't."

THT: "Well, why not? Am I supposed to simply forfeit the three credit hours that I've earned this morning?"

ME: "I'm sorry, ma'am. We only offer all-day credit."

THT: "Well, can you just comp me the extra three hours?"

ME: "No, ma'am. I'm sorry."

THT: "[Screaming] WELL, I'LL BE! THIS is just GREAT! I have a mind to..."

Dorothy: [interrupting] "...Calm down! Why don't you just go home? Why are you insisting on making a scene?"

THT: "A SCENE? MY NIECE IS IN PRISON!"

Dorothy: "Yeah, I know. You already told me. Listen, I don't care what you do. Leave. Stay. No matter. It is all the same to me. [Dorothy starts to walk out of my office. I start to panic a little bit and almost scream out, "Dorothy, don't leave me alone with her again!"]"

THT: "Dorothy, I'm sorry. Please don't leave me!"

[Dorothy keeps walking.]

[THT starts to tear-up again.]

ME: "Hey...uh...Dorothy. Wait a second. Why don't you take her with you to lunch? It is next on your schedule, and that way she can calm down a bit more and decide whether or not she wants to stay for the rest of the day."

[Dorothy's eyes narrow at me as if to say, "I cannot believe you just said that!"]

Dorothy: "[Looking directly at me with a cold, cold look on her face.] Fine. Let's go to lunch, then. That sounds great. Just great."

[Dorothy turns and continues toward the door.]

THT: "Okay. Sounds great! Just let me get my bag..."

So, yeah. That was...uh...Awkward...Uncomfortable...Nerve-racking...Craziness!

For the rest of the day, I kind of kept waiting for Dorothy to appear out of nowhere and beat the crap out of me for pawning The Hysterical Teacher off on her (but she didn't, thank goodness).

Dorothy - if you're out there - thank you so much for taking that crazy woman away from me! I owe you one!