Clock

So, here is how it went down. There was a power outage in my school in the middle of the night. We all showed up at work to a downed server and no a/c, but! This was not the most annoying thing. The annoying thing was The Clocks. They were wrong. All of them. Mine, too!

Do you know any sixth graders? Actually it was the seventh graders who were difficult, as usual. The sixth graders were normal human creatures about the whole thing. "Ms. S," they said, "your Clock is wrong." "Yes, I know. Thank you." It was annoying to have to say it approximately 90 times (once for each sixth grader), but it was doable. And I felt a sense of accomplishment as I did it because I knew that particular sixth grader would not mention The Clock again, what with my evil glare. They read face. Seventh graders? No way. My seventh graders have a special kind of maturity, one which makes them crazy insanos for however long it lasts. By the time they came in, I had a routine. I began each period with a brief announcement about The Clock, the cause of its incorrect time, and the approximate time of its repair. I had a visual aid. This worked with the sixth graders. They all nodded knowingly, and there was some whispered gossip about The Clock, and then that was the end of it. The seventh graders ignored my spiel, came up and told me "The Clock is WRONG, Ms. S!" Or! Even worse--didn't know that it was wrong even though that was ALL WE TALKED ABOUT THE ENTIRE 48 MINUTES of my supposed English class. Honors English, mind you.

The ones who didn't know it was wrong were the real misery. They kept looking at it. Teachers freaking hate it when you look at The Clock. Non-teacher equivalent hatred does not even exist in this world. So I just don't know what to tell you. Use your imaginations, people. One student, let's call him Xerxes (because I need a rare name to protect self from anyone knowing whom I'm talking about), said to me, "Ms. S, The Bell's about to ring." Of course you people all know that this is another thing teachers hate. When they decide The Bell is about to ring and that they get to pack up their stuff and stop learning and shit. Yo. It is just rude. But I suppose it's silly to count on a middle schooler for manners. This one, this Xerxes, has many clones who do the same. They think the clock is right!!! Even though it is 1.75 hours slow! And further! They do not even notice the short hand is pointed at the wrong number! So it says 11:45, and The dumb Bell (hideous interruption) rings at 1:49, and this Xerxes and all his clones think The Bell is about to ring because in addition to having not noticed the prior 30 minutes of class which were, naturally, all about The Clock being wrong, they can. not. read. In my English class! Oh, and! It isn't even reading! It is telling time. There are no letters. OMG. I may explode here, just writing this. Help. The incredulity is all that I am and all I have become.

So, anyway. I can barely bring myself to continue this story because it is so frustrating, but I shall trod gamely forward, for the sake of my three readers. Anyway, I know that you cannot fathom such a thing, but it gets worse. Meaning, specifically, that Xerxes and his clones, once they have been informed for the 3803802359th time that The Clock is wrong and that The Bell is emphatically NOT going to ring right now because it wouldn't dare, continue to not understand. As in: they have further questions. What do they ask? Oh, you know, the things we have already said ten thousand times. 1) Is The Clock wrong? 2) Why is The Clock wrong? 3) When will The Clock be right again? 4) Are you sure? and so on. And now I think that I have switched verb tense inappropriately somewhere up there, which I am obviously opposed to, but that is how upset I am, remembering this horror.

My students are so eager for the bell to ring that by this point you probably think I'm a bad teacher. I'm not. I am seriously not. But learning is Hard. Teaching is Hard. Learning something new or even something quirked erases your previous self and draws a new one. Learning hurts. It should.

The end.