HIGHLY SKILLED PLAYERS

Getting to the copy machine at work is a highly competitive business.

We compete with our own grade-level to get to the one copy machine allotted to us.  Sometimes other grade-level machines are down, and we compete with teachers from other grades, as well, for that one copy machine allotted to us.  This only sucks eggs when other grades or other departments (such as admin or the super's office) are trying to copy during our grade's limited planning time.

Like I said, access is highly competitive.

 

The machine does have the capacity to interrupt, if necessary, so we can make copies in a pinch.  Except ... except if someone sends a job remotely from his or her classroom.  Then, once the job starts, there is no recourse, no way to stop the copying process. 

(Well, that's not entirely true.  There is always the plug in the wall, or out of the wall, as solutions go.  I'm not saying that I've ever done that, but I am not denying it, either.)

Often when we see another teacher heading toward the planning area where the grade-level copy machine is, we run as fast as we can and employ tactics that rival the NHL and European soccer leagues for fouls and penalties.  One of the teachers even has her own red and yellow flags to call infractions during such antics.

This same teacher, flags or not, is petite.  By petite, I mean that I just today suggested that the next time someone calls her "petite," she should break out with a rousing chorus of "We Represent the Lollipop Kids" from Wizard of Oz.  After our joint-meeting to prep for tomorrow's special once-a-week joint-class, this teacher gathers her materials and I gather mine.  Together we start walking in the direction of the prep room.

I notice that her little legs are suddenly scurrying along.  When she has put about four feet between us in the hallway, she glances back at me over her tiny shoulder and says, "Oooooohhhhhhh no ya don't!"  I realize that she is heading straight for the copy machine, a direct beeline, and she seems intent on beating me there.

I have a short back but long legs, so I am able to gain on her rather quickly.  She runs a zigzag pattern in an attempt to block me from passing, her tiny black shoes clacking along the tiled hallway, echoing in the emptiness of our planning period as the students are elsewhere in the building.  In addition to my longer-than-hers legs, I am wearing sneakers today, so I have the advantage in height, shoe size (I have big feet for my stature), and footwear.

I tease her as we waddle and push and giggle, elbowing each other in an attempt to be the first one to the sacred machine.  This competition lasts only until she realizes what I am holding in my hand: Scantron sheets -- the ones with the bubbles filled in using number 2 pencils. 

The jig is up.  I am not racing to the sole copy machine in our hallway; I am meandering down to the admin offices to use the Scantron machine, which will feed and correct my papers for me and spew out all kinds of data about the quiz questions. 

My pal slows to a walking gait and bids me adieu at the planning room door.  I have about a football field's length of hallway to get to where I am going, and I know that even if someone else is using the Sacntron grading machine, there's a second one tucked away upstairs in another grade-level planning room.  I'll smack someone out of my way, if I have to.

Yup, just like I told you: Copying papers is a competitive sport at my work, and we are all highly skilled players.