Saturday, December 24, 2005
Tastes Like Burning!
Waldo. Harry Potter. Jimmy Neutron. Spiderman. The list of nicknames I've acquired at Underwood high school spans the pop cultural canon, but all have one underlying thing in common. All of them were student derived. In other words, I don't walk down the hall to say hello to another teacher and then here them call me "Waldo" instead of Mr. _________. It just doesn't happen.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I found out from the head of the special education department on Monday that I may have earned a new nickname with the staff: "Fire Marshal Bill" (Although other variations, i.e. Fire Marshal Ben", may also be acceptable.) Now, so far as nicknames go this is rather innocuous, despite its hints towards pyromania and irresponsible behavior. Regardless of these faults however, I suppose I earned the title given what happened a week ago last Friday.
It was Friday the week before the week before winter break and the teachers at Underwood were beginning to feel the strain. Students were chomping at the bit to get out of doing anything that even remotely resembled work. There were fights. There were fits. There were kids in the halls. The administration was being its usual well-meaning, but ultimately bumbling self. It was the usual routine. And we needed to vent. So a few of us gathered together at the end of the day to eat leftover holiday candy and talk shop. Not much to report except that all of us agreed that the next week would be a joke, but we still had to teach something.
Our conversation broke up around 4 or 4:30, and I went downstairs to the ninth grade offices to work on interim reports, which were due to be mailed on Monday. Upon returning to my classroom, I sat down to grade some quizzes so I could have a nice, relaxing weekend. Unfortunately, I got sidetracked when a few of my students, having just finished wrestling practice, dropped by to find out their grades. Of course, ths led to inevitable demonstrations of color-changing hydrates and the electrolysis of water, with side discussions of the Hindenberg explosion and the nation's strategic helium reserves.
But finally, around 5:30 or so, I can start grading. Because I make multiple versions of my quizzes, this can often be a time consuming process, but around two hours later, I had basically finished off. And then, with only 5 papers left to go, the fire alarm went off. It was about 7:45 and I initially figured it was a malfunction of the sort we had experienced earlier in the week during our benchmark testing.
So I wandered out into the hallway. It smelled like smoke. Now the wiser thing to do would likely have been to simply pack my stuff and leave, but I decided to follow the smell. When I turned the corner near the counselor's office, I saw something startling. The corridor from the counselor's office to the main office was entirely filled with gray smoke. Visibility was practically nil.
At this point, I realized two things: 1. This was not a malfunction or a drill. 2. I should really just pack my stuff and leave.
I scrambled back to my classroom, shoved all my remaining papers into my bag, and went downstairs to look for the custodians and make sure they knew what was going on. I soon caught up with them however and learned that the fire had started in the auditorium. One had even looked under the door and seen flames! We gathered behind the school at the maintenance entrance and waited for the fire department to arrive. When the first fire truck arrived, yours truly was the one who led them inside to show where things were going on. The fireman's response?
"This ain't no drill! We've got a job!!!"
After that, the pace picked up. Around a half dozen firetrucks, the police, the school district, and two news crews were on the scene. Meanwhile, I was struggling with my cell phone's dying battery to contact my principal. I was the only one who had her number and figured that she would probably appreciate knowing that her school was, how do you say, ah yes, ON FIRE! Unfortunately, the cell was dying, and the only way to recharge it was to walk around the building past the fire engines and news crews, get to my car, and plug in the charger.
Which I did, and after a few minutes was able to leave a message on my principal's voicemail. When she finally called back, I explained the situation. She was a good half hour to an hour away, but promised to be there shortly. I stuck around, figuring that would be the best way to find out what had happened and also to let others know that the principal had been contacted. By the time the principal arrived at 9, the fire, which appeared to be electrical, had been put out, but not before scorching the back corner of our already subpar auditorium to a blackened crisp. The fire marshal asked all of us who had been at the school what we had seen, and by the time things had finished with that, it was nearly 9:30.
What with cleanup, several lengthy conversations with the principal and vice-principal, and everything else attached, I ended up at school that night until 10:15, making it the single longest day of work I have ever had. And I still hadn't gotten dinner! So by the time I got home and had some food, it was 11, my quizzes were still ungraded, and I was exhausted.
But I had learned a valuable lesson: Never stay at school working until 8:00 on a Friday because it will catch on fire.
This was the second actual fire I have been involved with at Underwood this year. I had hoped it would be the last, but on Monday, another fire broke out in one of the stairwells. In contrast to the other two, whose exact causes remain up for debate, this one was almost certainly caused by a student playing with matches or a lighter near the insulation for the school's heating pipes.
It was enough to make one of my colleagues wonder yesterday if the school would still be there when we got back after New Year's.
The short answer: probably.
The long answer: probably...but for how long after that?
Happy winter holiday, ladies and gents. And be careful as you roast your chestnuts over that open fire.
Trust Fire Marshal Ben...those things can be a hazard!
Waldo. Harry Potter. Jimmy Neutron. Spiderman. The list of nicknames I've acquired at Underwood high school spans the pop cultural canon, but all have one underlying thing in common. All of them were student derived. In other words, I don't walk down the hall to say hello to another teacher and then here them call me "Waldo" instead of Mr. _________. It just doesn't happen.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I found out from the head of the special education department on Monday that I may have earned a new nickname with the staff: "Fire Marshal Bill" (Although other variations, i.e. Fire Marshal Ben", may also be acceptable.) Now, so far as nicknames go this is rather innocuous, despite its hints towards pyromania and irresponsible behavior. Regardless of these faults however, I suppose I earned the title given what happened a week ago last Friday.
It was Friday the week before the week before winter break and the teachers at Underwood were beginning to feel the strain. Students were chomping at the bit to get out of doing anything that even remotely resembled work. There were fights. There were fits. There were kids in the halls. The administration was being its usual well-meaning, but ultimately bumbling self. It was the usual routine. And we needed to vent. So a few of us gathered together at the end of the day to eat leftover holiday candy and talk shop. Not much to report except that all of us agreed that the next week would be a joke, but we still had to teach something.
Our conversation broke up around 4 or 4:30, and I went downstairs to the ninth grade offices to work on interim reports, which were due to be mailed on Monday. Upon returning to my classroom, I sat down to grade some quizzes so I could have a nice, relaxing weekend. Unfortunately, I got sidetracked when a few of my students, having just finished wrestling practice, dropped by to find out their grades. Of course, ths led to inevitable demonstrations of color-changing hydrates and the electrolysis of water, with side discussions of the Hindenberg explosion and the nation's strategic helium reserves.
But finally, around 5:30 or so, I can start grading. Because I make multiple versions of my quizzes, this can often be a time consuming process, but around two hours later, I had basically finished off. And then, with only 5 papers left to go, the fire alarm went off. It was about 7:45 and I initially figured it was a malfunction of the sort we had experienced earlier in the week during our benchmark testing.
So I wandered out into the hallway. It smelled like smoke. Now the wiser thing to do would likely have been to simply pack my stuff and leave, but I decided to follow the smell. When I turned the corner near the counselor's office, I saw something startling. The corridor from the counselor's office to the main office was entirely filled with gray smoke. Visibility was practically nil.
At this point, I realized two things: 1. This was not a malfunction or a drill. 2. I should really just pack my stuff and leave.
I scrambled back to my classroom, shoved all my remaining papers into my bag, and went downstairs to look for the custodians and make sure they knew what was going on. I soon caught up with them however and learned that the fire had started in the auditorium. One had even looked under the door and seen flames! We gathered behind the school at the maintenance entrance and waited for the fire department to arrive. When the first fire truck arrived, yours truly was the one who led them inside to show where things were going on. The fireman's response?
"This ain't no drill! We've got a job!!!"
After that, the pace picked up. Around a half dozen firetrucks, the police, the school district, and two news crews were on the scene. Meanwhile, I was struggling with my cell phone's dying battery to contact my principal. I was the only one who had her number and figured that she would probably appreciate knowing that her school was, how do you say, ah yes, ON FIRE! Unfortunately, the cell was dying, and the only way to recharge it was to walk around the building past the fire engines and news crews, get to my car, and plug in the charger.
Which I did, and after a few minutes was able to leave a message on my principal's voicemail. When she finally called back, I explained the situation. She was a good half hour to an hour away, but promised to be there shortly. I stuck around, figuring that would be the best way to find out what had happened and also to let others know that the principal had been contacted. By the time the principal arrived at 9, the fire, which appeared to be electrical, had been put out, but not before scorching the back corner of our already subpar auditorium to a blackened crisp. The fire marshal asked all of us who had been at the school what we had seen, and by the time things had finished with that, it was nearly 9:30.
What with cleanup, several lengthy conversations with the principal and vice-principal, and everything else attached, I ended up at school that night until 10:15, making it the single longest day of work I have ever had. And I still hadn't gotten dinner! So by the time I got home and had some food, it was 11, my quizzes were still ungraded, and I was exhausted.
But I had learned a valuable lesson: Never stay at school working until 8:00 on a Friday because it will catch on fire.
This was the second actual fire I have been involved with at Underwood this year. I had hoped it would be the last, but on Monday, another fire broke out in one of the stairwells. In contrast to the other two, whose exact causes remain up for debate, this one was almost certainly caused by a student playing with matches or a lighter near the insulation for the school's heating pipes.
It was enough to make one of my colleagues wonder yesterday if the school would still be there when we got back after New Year's.
The short answer: probably.
The long answer: probably...but for how long after that?
Happy winter holiday, ladies and gents. And be careful as you roast your chestnuts over that open fire.
Trust Fire Marshal Ben...those things can be a hazard!
