Edubabble and other Blither

The mammoth cop sat in the school office in the chairs along the wall, twirling his hat absent-mindedly as if his mind were on other more important matters-- a call home, detention, or suspension. He waited to see the principal, to see what fate held for him in the next few years, the last years of his career.

When I saw him sitting there, I assumed one of the kids had run into a little trouble. When I later saw him shadowing our school resource officer, Officer McGary, I thought that maybe City Council wasn't sure about our cops-in-school partnership, in place for the past six years. Maybe this fat guy was with McGary to see just what he did all day with these kids when he could be out on the beat, chasing loiterers from Sheetz, warning dog owners about shit, and checking the restrooms at the city park for pot-smokers and vandals. I was wrong on both counts. Officer McGary was leaving us become chief of a nearby township, and Officer Obese was going to be his replacement.

I didn't know this when my principal, Stan Hetrick, called me to his office last Wednesday morning. "Chrissy," he said. "I want you to do me a favor. When you see McGary and his little buddy around school, tell McGary you want him to teach a class in January."

"OK, " I offered, unsure. "Any reason why?"

"I can't go into that now," he replied. I was skeptical, but planned to do as I was asked.

Later that day he filled me in. McGary was going to be the chief in Sipes Township, and city council wanted to replace him with Officer O. "He's their highest-salaried guy, Chrissy, and they want me to pay for half of that. Of course they do. I don't want their dead weight, though. I don't think he'd be happy here."

I had to agree. The kids would eat him alive. He put one to mind of the stingy administrator of the workhouse in Oliver, the indignant guy who became apoplectic when Oliver Twist had the audacity to ask for more, please. I envisioned a plethora of doughnut jokes in his future. I could picture slippery sixth graders simply scampering away from him, snickering.

The next morning, Thursday, I saw the officers in the lobby by the cafeteria. I approached them with my best Miss Magillicuddy/Eliza Jane Wilder demeanor-- straight, proper walk, big smile, precise enunciation. They both looked afraid. "Officer McGary!" I called. "Just the man I wanted to see." I didn't give either of them a chance to respond. "I have a marvelous idea. I'd like you to come to my class this January, when we really begin to prepare for state testing. You see, the students will be reading various articles about adolescent issues, and many of them involve legalities. I'd love for you to lead the discussion. They'd love it, too, I'm sure. I look forward to putting our heads together soon! Bye, now." I trotted upstairs to my classroom, leaving both men rather dumbstruck.

As I checked my mailbox Friday morning, Stan was waiting, a big smile on his face. "We have a new contestant, Chrissy!" I guess the local chief called Stan and informed him, a little apologetically, that whoever the new guy was, he just wouldn't be able to jump right in and teach right away. "These guys just aren't ready for English class," Stan was told. Stan understood, oh, yes, he did. Perfectly.