Tuesday
Notes from the Author:
Originally this story was going to be about pooping. Yes, a legitimate story about defecation my friends. It occurred to me that just about everyone poops and just about anyone could talk about it. It seemed fool hearty of me to assume that I was a premiere expert on pooping considering I’ve only been doing it for roughly 23 years or so (cognizant of only about 15 at best). Instead this tale will be about pirates, ninjas, dinosaurs, and of course pedagogy. Well, all right then, let’s do this thing.
Tuesday
The school had protocols for things like bombs, kids with guns, parents with guns, teachers with guns, any of the before mentioned with guns and bombs, terrorists, drunk school bus drivers, snow, rain, an utter lack of weather, and even drunken staff holiday parties. The school, however, did not have a protocol, literally none whatsoever, for pirates, ninjas, or dinosaurs. It was exceptionally negligent of this school, this academic forum, Mr. Mangostein thought as a tyrannosaurus-rex stared incredulously through the court yard window, into his classroom. It was actually staring with skepticism but the tyrannosaurus clearly thought it was staring with incredulity. Stupid, small brained, reptile. Didn’t he realize he was extinct? Some of the students had begun to stare back at the reptilian idiot and Mr. Mangostein could sense their attention to the vocabulary lesson waning.
“Hey! Everybody, eyes up here! We haven’t heard everyone’s example sentences yet”, Mr. Mangostein pressed his hands firmly into his desk and rested his weight on them as he stood behind his desk.
“Mr. Mangostein, there is a t-rex outside”, it was Jeremy an over achiever and a bit of a brown noser.
“I know Jeremy, and if we ignore him he will probably go away”, the lesson was doomed now, thanks to that tyrannical lizard looming outside.
“He looks trapped. I don’t think he can get out”, Sarah said in a whisper looking up in wide eyed wonderment at the visitor.
“Yes, well maybe he should have thought of that before he came trudging into our court yard. He has completely smashed Mrs. Johnson’s classroom”, Mrs. Johnson had spent the entire summer decorating and arranging her classroom before the school year began and now look what had happened. It was all a disaster. “Timothy! Could you provide us with your example sentence?”
“The gangster was tripping if he thought he would get away with his boy’s girl”, He looked up at Mr. Mangostein upon finishing. Doubt hung on his face.
“Gangsta, Timothy, it’s pronounced gangstA. Otherwise, an excellent example”.
The bell rang ending 3rd period. Mr. Mangostein collapsed into his chair as the students made their way out of the room. Another lesson an abysmal failure now thanks to the prehistoric peeping tom that had now completely fogged up the windows looking into the court yard. At least now 4th period would have a harder time seeing it.
A canon blast rocked the foundation and the faint, “Yar Har!” and “Avast Ye Dogs!” could be heard echoing down the hall from the social studies wing. Fantastic, pirates. It snows a few inches and school gets cancelled, a merciless crew of marauding pirates invades the school building and class must go on as usual. Typical beaurocratic bullshit in Mr. Mangostein’s opinion. He decided now was an opportune time to use the restroom and pulled himself from his chair and headed out the door.
As he left the restroom, feeling much better about the day’s outlook, he stopped at the drinking fountain. Depressing the lever produced no result and as he looked down at it with disdain he noticed three throwing stars buried deeply in its side. Water could be seen leaking out around them and all Mr. Mangostein could do was smooth out his tie walk back to his classroom defeated.
4th period came in looking over their shoulders, eyes darting as they made their way to their seats. Mr. Mangostein began taking attendance and noticed a handful of students were missing.
“Does anyone know if Jake, Lisa, Margaret, or Charles is here today?” He scanned the room.
“The pirates took Jake and Margaret Mr. Mangostein. They just came into Mr. Jeffries’ and just took them. . . they even took the class text books and Mr. Jeffries’ chalk”, Sarah was noticeably upset over these events and she should have been. The whole school was just trying to stay afloat with the chalk shortage and the entire math department was all ready short on text books. “Why would they do that Mr. Mangostein?” her voice wavered and her eyes moistened.
“It’s called pillaging Sarah, that’s what pirates do”, Mr. Mangostein replied plainly. She was a nice girl, but not very bright. Mr. Mangostein had been looking forward for the entire morning to being able to head straight home after school and taking a spectacular and uninterrupted nap but not it appeared as though he would be trapped after school long into the evening talking to parents about their children’s kidnapping. It was really nothing to worry about. The students usually returned in a few months as crew on the pirate fleets, helping with the loading of loot and the dispersal of rum. Ms. Adams, the wrestling coach, along with the varsity team would be able to reclaim most of them.
“Mr. Mangostein! Someone said there were ninjas in Mr. Travis’ classroom! They said they saw him waving his Travis Trident around and screaming, ‘Have at you!’. Mr. Travis is so hot!” The last remark was more to her friend then it was to Mr. Mangostein but Jessica had said it louder than she probably intended. The story was entirely plausible. Ninjas were most certainly present and Mr. Travis was known for his theatrics.
“Why haven’t we seen any ninjas Mr. Mangostein?” It was William and he was screaming at Mr. Mangostein again.
“Well, they’re ninjas William. They tend to keep to the shadows. That’s sort of what makes them ninjas. The whole stealth thing”.
“Ninjas are awesome!” The class burst into the laughter and the tyrannosaurus sneezed. Suddenly a pirate wearing a woman’s wig most likely taken from the drama department burst into the classroom. His scimitar was drawn he swung it about his head utterly decimating the American flag that hung about the door as well as a poster of Ralph Waldo Emerson which now lay on the floor in tatters. He barreled towards Mr. Mangostein, his few yellowed teeth shown as he sneered. The pirate caught his foot on a student’s bag and fell flat at Mr. Mangostein’s feet, passed out drunk. Wonderful, pirates attack the school and of course they’re drunk. What kind of role models were they making for the students here? Mr. Mangostein’s jaw clinched together, the muscles in his face shown. He balled his fists and walked over to the classroom phone.
“Yes, hello. This is Mr. Mangostein. A pirate has just collapsed drunk on my classroom floor and he is posing a serious hindrance to my student’s learning”. Of course there was nothing the office could do. Touching the pirate and potentially injuring him during removal could quite easily land the school in quite a bit of legal hot water. There would certainly be a point about students’ bags in the classroom during next week’s staff meeting.
As Mr. Mangostein quietly hung up the phone a man in a black jump suit came crashing through the ceiling tiles and landed in a heap amongst the students’ American writer projects. Thoreau’s popsicle jail was demolished completely, Walt Whitman’s leaf and grass collage was run through on a katana, and Allan Edgar Poe’s paper mache raven which at one time recited a number of his poems at the pull of a string now lay broken partially open like a piñata, pitifully croaking, “Eleanor”. The sight was enough to bring tears to any first year teacher’s eyes but Mr. Mangostein was a man hardened by years in the classroom and as the ninja lay groaning groggily, most likely intoxicated on pirate rum, a student out of Mr. Mangostein’s field of vision asked, “Um. . . will we get an extension on our American writer projects Mr. Mangostein?”
“We’ll see”.