We have an annual tradition around here. Other states may have different names for it, or a slightly different format, but here in south central North Dakota, the Class B high schools go head-to-head with their best and brightest students in something we lovingly call “Acalympics.” It is an academic competition that covers a wide range of subject matter from science to current events. The questions are difficult, the competitors good sports, and believe it or not, it is fun to watch.
Our school usually kicks off the season with the first competition held at our school. It is an incredible amount of work to host several hundred people and make sure it all happens seamlessly. We are a small school, so it is all-hands-on-deck. Every teacher is expected to contribute in a meaningful way. My job is official scorekeeper. I graduated from kitchen duty three years ago. At this rate I will be running the whole shebang in ten years.
It works like this. We scorekeepers are placed in the center of the gymnasium at long tables in front of the judges table (an even more prestigious job). These gods of knowledge are comprised of teachers from both our school and others, the district superintendent, and always a couple of National Guard representatives. The National Guard graciously host each year’s event, meaning they provide tables, overhead projectors, and a bunch of other cool stuff. Of course their angle is recruitment, but we gratefully accept their help.
During the course of my scorekeeping duties, I am required to turn around to the judge’s tables in order to converse with them. As I did so, I realized that the National Guard guys each had a pile of official National Guard pencils lines up neatly beside them. My first grade teacher radar was suddenly locked and loaded. (If you have not read my posts concerning the endless lack of pencils in The Magic Tree House, then this story will make about as much sense as the most recent Lowe’s commercial).
Suffice it to say, I am always on the lookout for a new pencil source. These guys looked like an easy mark. I spent a few minutes observing my victims, (OOPS, I meant generous donors), behavior. I noticed that the division they were scoring required them to look to their left quite often.
This was going to be easy.
The next time I saw them look away, I reached over and silently pulled a pencil toward my side of the table. I deposited it next to me and waited for another opportune moment. They came fast and furious. By the time the Lightning Round was over, I held every pencil in my possession, like poker chips on a green felt table. Really? Should we be entrusting our national security to such lax ambassadors? I wondered smugly.
Moments later, a pencil was reached for, not found, and I knew the jig was up. I chose to ‘fess up. I thought it might save me from being waterboarded, or something equally barbaric.
“I have your pencils,” I said simply. Furrowed brow answered me. “I teach first grade and we never have enough pencils,” I offered in explanation. “I thought you wouldn’t mind sharing yours.” He looked at me quizzically. “You need that many pencils?” he asked incredulously. “You have no idea. Really, I am shameless when it comes to taking them whenever and wherever I can.” I waited for a military tribunal to convene or tanks to roll through the Foam Dome’s doors, but he just smiled and shook his head. “I can get you more pencils. How many do you need?” “How many have you got?” I shot back. Another lopsided grin from the Man in Uniform. “I’ll get you more before we leave.” I would have liked that in writing, but decided to not push my luck.
Sure enough, as the tables were being taken down and projectors carried to their trailer, he found me and shoved several dozen pencils into my eager hands. I smiled my thanks and laid them next to my laptop on the stage while I helped with the clean up. When I went to retrieve my belongings later, my precious pencils were gone! I was frantic...
My Pencil Benefactors were loaded and getting ready to leave. Running after them like Forest Gump flinging his leg braces, I raced out the door to where they were just shutting the trailer doors. “Someone took my pencils!” I exclaimed with all the horror and alarm of a bona fide theft victim. My Pencil Saint looked at me with a “Yeah? Wudda’ want me to do about it, Whacky Lady?” But he swallowed those words and said instead, “Would you like more?” His tone said, “Please say no. Please say no…”
Do I want more pencils? Does a newborn poop yellow slime?
I smiled and nodded. He sighed imperceptibly. He entered the dark trailer and began fishing around. I headed back in to see what else needed to be done. He found me after five minutes or so and shoved even more pencils than before into my hands. “You are my hero!” I said convincingly, and meant it. His smile told me that he had been happy to help a nervy first grade teacher keep her darlings supplied with writing utensils.
I sharpened them today and put some in the “pencils for sale” jar. The kids will be as excited over those as if they had light sabers on the end. They’re camouflage! OOOOOH! Trust me, it will feel like Pencil Christmas for them.
What makes a teacher do such outrageous things, like steal from the military? I am not sure, but I think it has something to do with dry school coffers and a bottomless well where my heart should be located.
To that end, I will scrounge, and trade, and deal-make till the day I retire.
Sometimes a generous soul helps makes a difference.
God bless the National Guard…
No comments:
Post a Comment