I
do not make a good impression on some of the parents during this morning’s
walk-about at the school. It’s not
entirely my fault, though.
You
see, I finally have windows after three years.
These windows have views to outside, actually let light in, and open. I’m not kidding, these windows have little
clips at the bottom, and, when I release the clips, I can open the windows for
real. People who work in windowless
rooms know exactly the feeling I’m talking about when one is finally able to
see the world outside from one’s desk.
The
only problem with these windows is that they are screen-less.
Today,
since it’s in the mid-eighties, I have the windows open and a fan running when
parents and kids stream through. With about fifteen minutes left in the
walk-about, which is an open-house for people to come in and figure out the
layout of the school, I have a packed room of new students, former students,
and people who just like hanging around.
Naturally,
this is when I notice the yellow jacket flying around the room.
I
suspected that bees would get in, so I brought to school some insect/hornet
killer spray and a fly swatter. It is at
this moment that at least one of them will come in handy.
I
am standing on the giant heating unit, attempting to close the giant windows,
when I notice a bee flying in front of my face.
I ask my entourage if one of them might please hand me the pink fly
swatter from my desk.
Once
I have that weapon in my hand, I start doing the Bee Don’t Sting Me Watusi. I flail around trying to whack the bee while
he dive-bombs me and the girls scream.
Suddenly,
I have the bee almost cornered. I start
swatting at it crazily, but it still comes at me. Finally, I give the bee a good beating while
yelling, “DIE! DIE DIE DIE! DIE DIE!”
The bee drops out of mid-air to the ground below, beaten to a small
fleck of dusty yellowness.
It
is at this point that I regain my focus to the classroom. Standing outside my door are several parents
who had been poised to come in, but they have decided against it, after
all. Perhaps they think I am speaking to
them, or, worse, to their kiddos.
Nope,
just a bee. A poor, dead, in-my-classroom
bee. A bee I am very excited to squish,
apparently.
Oh
well. At least the parents know I’ll
keep their kids safe, even from yellow jackets, if necessary. You just never know.
