Help Wanted: A Personal Censor

I have been through a lot as a teacher. I have managed to do most of it without cussing. Until today.

Now by a lot, I mean I have led 40 or more 14 year olds through the nation's capital in all kinds of weather, through countless security screens, and across the lawn of Mount Vernon in the course of 100 straight hours of field trip bliss. If your child's teacher so much as takes your kid's class to an apple orchard, go buy her a gift. Right now. A trip is a lot of work.

So yes, the list would go on and on and on of what I have encountered during thirteen years of teaching.

It should be no surprise that I was in "work" Wal-Mart this morning at 6:30 AM buying file folders and document frames for tomorrow's graduation service.

As I rounded the corner at Men's clothing to head for the check out, I heard an unfortunately familiar sound:

KKKSssssshhhh...ting, ting, ting...

It sounded like a thousand fairies laughing. at. me.

I would like to have a moment of silence for the two document frames who gave their lives due to the reckless abandon with which I steer a cart. Did I mention it was not even seven AM yet?

I cleaned up the chunky parts of my mess, careful not to add "stitches" to my story of how my morning could have been better. There was no way I was coming back later, so I went back and picked up two more frames, nestling them deeper in the cart to prevent further leaps to death.

Let me tell you.... Trish at the check out was real glad to see me this morning as I explained why I was holding two empty frames and a bunch of broken glass. I'll bet she was thinking, "all this before 7 AM? Aren't I one lucky woman?"

Later, on the way to graduation practice in the front row of an un-airconditioned school bus with 47 eighth graders, my partner teacher, and my principal, I related the early morning's events.

My partner teacher asked, "So do you need to go back and get more frames?"

I practically shouted an emphatic, "Ooooh HELL NO."

Oh now that's nice.

My partner teacher pretended I didn't say anything inappropriate while internally praising God that it wasn't WORSE than that because heaven knows, I like a good curse word.

My principal smiled faintly, likely due to the horrified look on my face.

I wondered where the filter between my brain and mouth went? Perhaps on summer vacation a few days early? I apparently need my own personal censor to follow me around with an air horn to bleep out my inappropriate remarks.

God only knows what I might say at graduation tomorrow night, in the church, on the microphone, and in front of the parents and priest....