About six weeks ago, the week before Christmas vacation, a potential new student showed his face in my classroom. He was small and shy, but had a clever air about him. He didn’t tell me his name, so in the spirit of the holiday, I christened him Dasher.
Now, mice don’t really bother me, but I’m also a realist that understand that this is how epidemics of the plague start, so I reported him to the proper authorities, “Hey, Megan, I have one in my room,” made a meme, added some jokes and I never saw him again.
Fast forward to last Friday.
The weather was temperate, the sun was shining, it was the end of the first week of the new semester, and I was all set to proceed through my lessons and have a nice ease into the weekend.
I was so fucking wrong.
Being in my awesome mood, I thought, I haven’t filled my mint basket in a while. So I opened the bottom drawer of my desk grabbed the mints and some leftover suckers I had.
And then I made the most audible gasp ever that interrupted my class while they took a quiz.
Is that… MOUSE SHIT?!?!
Oh, but that’s not all. I pulled the drawer all the way open.
This fucker, who I had NAMED and deemed HARMLESS had unrolled the plastic bag, pulled the candy out, unwrapped it with his little paws, ate it, and then MADE A NEST OF THE WRAPPERS.
Forget Bear Grylls. This kid’s a real survivalist.
The bell rang, and even though I was nauseous, I went to lunch to decompress and plan my next move.
The next hour started, and I explained to my students what was going on. I had some gloves, so while they started working, I began emptying everything from the drawer into the trash. All was tolerable, but then I decided to check the drawer above it.
And that’s where I lost it.
I was done, it was over, I needed to go home, I needed a Silkwood shower.
I grabbed a huge trash can and dumped everything. I lost boxes of pens and pencils, clipboards, student work, surveys, speakers, and even a pair of gloves I kept in there for days when my classroom is 64 degrees. All of it eaten and shredded.
The best I could do was borrow a vacuum and suck up the dried pellets.
I apologized to my class for not being a teacher that day, and I hope they understood.
In all of my college classes that were meant to prepare me for educating young minds, this was never mentioned.
Fucking out of touch professors.