Set me free, why don’t you, babe?

So I went to school this afternoon to put away some books and hang up some decorations I’d bought for my classroom. It was a little late in the day, but I figured I could get a few things done and then go back later in the week to finish up if need be.

Ron can tell you how easily I lose track of time when I’m working on something that interests me, so I wasn’t very surprised when I glanced up at the clock in my room and noticed it was 5 p.m. — 15 minutes past the time the office was supposed to close. I’d seen a lot of cars in the parking lot when I pulled in, so I figured somebody would still be hanging around, and maybe several somebodies.


By the time I packed up my stuff, put away the project I was working on, and locked up my room, it was 5:10, and the building was devoid of human life (aside from yours truly). I noticed chains on the front door as I walked past, but I didn’t think much of it until I got to the door that leads to the teachers’ lot and realized that it was chained up, too.

Undaunted, I wandered the halls until I found a door that appeared to be open. I pushed on it, and it opened … about six inches. Evidently the last guy out had left through this door and chained it from the outside.


I didn’t have my new principal’s number (probably a blessing — I don’t think he’s figured out yet that I’m kind of an idiot sometimes, and I’d just as soon keep that information from him as long as possible), so I called one of our assistant principals, who was gracious enough not to laugh at my predicament. She assured me that she would find someone to rescue me and told me to make myself comfortable while I waited.

I bought a bottle of cold water from a vending machine and settled in to wait. Within minutes, the assistant principal had tracked down a custodian who lives nearby and advised her of my situation. The custodian, who is technically on vacation this week, was gracious enough to make a special trip to school just to let me out.

I think I’ll put her name on one of those jars of honey in the cabinet. It’s the least I can do to thank her for rescuing me from the less-than-thrilling prospect of spending a night on the couch in the faculty lounge….


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