Call me old-fashioned, but personally, I don't know how a school can function with both of its main copy machines down. At about 5 PM yesterday I found myself wandering the building trying to figure out a way to make sure I was prepared for my first class the next day. Oh, I knew if worst came to worst, I could probably come in early and get in line for the one copier that was being repaired at that very moment, but generally? I prefer to avoid such crunchtime moves.
That's why, after the third time I cleared a paper jam in the main office I turned to a very slow and little-used machine nearby. With only 20 copies, I felt it was the best solution, and so I pushed all the buttons, fed in the originals, stood back and checked my email, played Words with Friends, picked at my cuticles, and otherwise waited the 15 minutes it took. Triumphantly, I carried the finished packets back to my room, hole-punched them, and left the building confident that I was ready for the next day.
Flash forward to me and my reading class at 9 AM this morning. "Can't we just read?" someone asked for the 97th time. "Why do they call it "reading" anyway if you won't let us read?"
"We are going to read," I answered brightly. "This is a good story!
Children sighed as packets slapped the table and pages turned.
"Wait!" said somebody. "Do I have the whole story? Is it mixed up?"
I looked over a shoulder. "Oops!" I said. "You know what, you guys? I made a mistake with the copies." I shrugged. "Why don't you read your books?"
They cheered.
"You are definitely the best teacher," someone said, sticking her nose into Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban just before the room went silent.
That's why, after the third time I cleared a paper jam in the main office I turned to a very slow and little-used machine nearby. With only 20 copies, I felt it was the best solution, and so I pushed all the buttons, fed in the originals, stood back and checked my email, played Words with Friends, picked at my cuticles, and otherwise waited the 15 minutes it took. Triumphantly, I carried the finished packets back to my room, hole-punched them, and left the building confident that I was ready for the next day.
Flash forward to me and my reading class at 9 AM this morning. "Can't we just read?" someone asked for the 97th time. "Why do they call it "reading" anyway if you won't let us read?"
"We are going to read," I answered brightly. "This is a good story!
Children sighed as packets slapped the table and pages turned.
"Wait!" said somebody. "Do I have the whole story? Is it mixed up?"
I looked over a shoulder. "Oops!" I said. "You know what, you guys? I made a mistake with the copies." I shrugged. "Why don't you read your books?"
They cheered.
"You are definitely the best teacher," someone said, sticking her nose into Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban just before the room went silent.
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