Corn Rows and Crossing Guards

This afternoon, as thirty 17-year-olds stared at me in rapture, revelling in the wisdom I was bestowing upon them, suddenly a stranger burst into the classroom.  Not a stranger as in "stranger danger" because  she was a familiar sort of stranger, not a complete stranger.  But a stranger in the sense that she wasn't someone I knew beyond recognizing that she works in the building, wasn't someone who was meant to be in my classroom, wasn't someone who normally appears in my classroom unannounced.

She was wearing a Vancouver Cannucks jersey that was enormous on her, so big it looked more like a dress and her hair was in corn rows, Bo Derek style, circa 1980.  She brought the smell of cigarettes in the room with her, so strongly that she must have just finished smoking right before she entered the room.  She looked to be in her early fifties, and she was out of breath.  She barged in and then seemed to enjoy the silence as all of us turned to stare at her while she tried to get enough air.

She said, "I was in Drama yesterday."  I waited.  She breathed some more.  She started again, "I was in Drama, but this isn't my class I don't think."  She looked around the room for confirmation, and we all nodded patiently.  We weren't her class, we all agreed.  I asked her what grade the students were in that she was looking for.  Eighth, she told me.  My twelfth graders nodded some more.  "Right," I said, "This is grade twelve.  Which teacher were you working with yesterday?"  She didn't know.  I figured she probably was working with Crazy Sue's Drama class yesterday since she's the only other person in the building who teaches Drama.  Corn Rows nodded and wheezed, yes, that she was looking for Crazy Sue's class.

I gave Corn Rows directions to get to Crazy Sue's classroom and she staggered off.  The grade twelves, who had been very polite to this point started to lose it and began giggling.  They stopped abruptly when Corn Rows reappeared and told me she couldn't find the room.

I showed her the faster, easier way to get there, by cutting through my classroom.  I didn't go with her because I didn't want Crazy Sue to come out and eat me, but I ushered her into the adjoining hallway between our rooms and pointed at Crazy Sue's door.  Then I went back into my room and tried to regain control of the grade twelves who were thrilled with this nonsense.

No sooner had I gotten them settled than Corn Rows appeared a third time and told me she couldn't find Crazy Sue's door.  This seemed impossible, given that the place I had taken her consisted of a small corridor and ONE door, but this time I walked with her right to the outside of the door, holding my breath to avoid inhaling her cigarette perfume.  Once I showed her the door, I bolted.  No way I wanted to witness what would happen when Crazy Sue and Corn Rows came face to face.

We all waited for Corn Rows to come back again but she didn't.  It was almost disappointing.  It was difficult to get the grade twelves to stop laughing and pay attention to me after that.  Part of me really wanted to see what happened behind that door.


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Right after that block I drove to the vet's office to pick up some medication for Emory who needs a tooth pulled.  As I drove through the school zone attached to the elementary school next door to my school, the school crossing guard pointed her finger at me and shouted in my open window, "This is a thirty zone!  Thirty, do you hear me?!  A thirty zone!!"  I was going thirty.  I gave her the I don't know what you want from me shrug and carried on.  I picked up the medication and headed back to my school for afternoon play rehearsal.  And that same crossing guard did exactly the same thing to me as I drove past her on the other side of the road.  Still not speeding.  Finger wagging, voice high pitched and obnoxious.

I pulled over and got out of my vehicle and went over to her where she was having a friendly conversation with a parent who was probably commending her on the wonderful job she was doing preventing people from speeding in her neighbourhood.  When the parent walked away, I asked Crossing Guard why she keeps shouting at me when I am absolutely not speeding.  She said I'm sorry but it looked like you were going faster than thirty.   I told her I am perfectly aware of my speed and do not appreciate her shouting at me.  She looked rattled and mumbled something under her breath.



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I don't normally handle things the way I handled Crossing Guard today.  More often I slink away and feel resentful.  Telling Crossing Guard to leave me alone was satisfying.  It wasn't that she was particularly pleasant about it, or willing to admit that she was acting like a dingbat.  It's more that I feel like she probably won't shout at me anymore because she doesn't want me pulling over to talk to her again.  And I like that.  If I had done that with Crazy Sue the first time she snarled, she probably wouldn't have turned into a werewolf.

As for Corn Rows, well, I don't think I will ever be able to practice how to deal with the kind of chaos that she brought into my classroom today.  At least I hope not.


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