Classic me, doing the #kinderblog14 challenge the first week and then petering out. I have a bit of a break at the moment. It’s been tough being a lady of leisure for the summer.
I sadly announce that I am getting a divorce from a very complicated relationship. One of the most challenging relationships I have experienced recently has been the one I have with a very important aspect in each and every school in our country. Some might say it has been put on the back burner due to all our technological advancements in society. Some might say we don’t even NEED this kind of relationship in schools anymore.
Yes, people. I am talking about the school paper supply room.
The paper supply room has caused me small to large amounts of rage on any given day since I’ve started teaching. We change it’s location, we buy new shelving, we throw in a stapler, a cutting tool, a glue stick here and there. But ALL IS LOST unless everyone respects some very important rules regarding the precious paper.
In no order of importance (they are all an 11 on the scale of 1 to 10) here are a few rules that coworkers need to obey:
THE LAST PIECE OF PAPER
When you take the last piece of white construction paper from the paper room, tell someone. There’s not a magic ordering fairy that will do that for you. And no, just because my students are “just in kindergarten” doesn’t mean we want your scraps to draw and paint on. Bring on the full size 8.5×14 people! The same thing goes for the photocopier. That red flashing light means it’s hungry. Feed it with some paper. It’s not difficult.
THE FIRST PIECE OF PAPER
Much like taking the last piece of paper from the paper room, when you take the first piece, don’t throw the clear wrapping onto the ground. The recycle is right there. You don’t even need to walk to get it in there. Maybe just a gentle lunge and a slight flick of the wrist will suffice. Gravity. Science. That kind of thing.
THE SCRAP PIECE OF PAPER
There are time when you find yourself in that in between situation from the previous two examples. You have finished cutting all your pieces and you are left with one, last, lonely piece of purple construction paper, resembling a triangle. Well coworkers, I have news for you. No one wants that purple triangle. No one. There will never be anyone who walks into the paper supply room and says, “OH PERFECT! A mangled kind of triangle sort of looking piece of construction paper! That’s exactly what that one student in my classroom needs.” That purple triangle needs to set up camp and find a home in the recycle bin. The sheer amount of energy it takes to find a use for that triangle, store that triangle, and keep it in its designated colour spot, is too much. It’s just too much output of energy for what you get back. It’s going into the recycle! Feel good about that! So help me God if I’m the one who walks into that paper room, and my 5’3 frame reaches waaaaaaaaay up to the top shelf to grab some fresh new purple construction paper, only to have a pointy, dangerous, eye stabbing triangle fall from its great height and directly into my eyeball.
Depending on my mood and how much coffee I’ve been able to consume that morning, any one of the above situations can throw me into a fit of rage for roughly 17 seconds. I’m really good at self regulating and getting over it, and I will promptly clean the paper supply room each time I have a few minutes. However, since I voluntarily clean and tidy the room during each visit, people become accustomed to this. Then it becomes EXPECTED! Therefore, I am getting a divorce. I am divorcing the paper room.