Lock Down Drill With Kindergartners

I looked at the twenty toothless innocent faces
peering at me from their low, green carpeted risers.
"When you hear the fire alarm, I want you to hold hands,
Like playing Follow the Leader only holding hands.
I read, "When Pluto Visted Earth" and a moon phase poem.
The alarm sounded and I said, "Be quiet and hold hands."
The children stood up and began our snake-like procession
to my office. I flipped off the light switch as we went.
I had pre-locked the doors earlier.
I have thirty-seven windows to close
or cover so I did that all week.
I seated them on the carpeted floor against the cupboards
and held up a tiny blue teddy bear. I said softly,
"It's time for you to all look at this bear
and think of a good name for him."
One little girls lip was quivering so
I walked over and handed her the bear
and asked her to hold it up high
so her classmates could get a good look at it.
Then the dreaded question came,
"Is this a fire drill Mrs. Nixon?
We have never done this before."
I certainly wasn't going to talk about
THE INCIDENT.
"We are practicing being quiet and safe
in case a bad guy tries to steal gas
from the gas station and the police need
to catch him. Or a bear might get on our
playground and we don't want him to see us."
Naming the bears took a whopping five minutes.
I passed out my twenty Dr. Seuss picture books
and told them it was time to look at books quietly.
That took a whopping five minutes.
It was then time to trade books with a friend.
That took a whopping five minutes.
Then the fidgeting began.
Finally the principal thanked us
and told us it was over and to e-mail him
feedback. I e-mailed him this feedback:
On the way out of my office and going out into the library,
little Hannah looks up at me and says,
"I think five hours was a little too long."

Larf the Sasquatch

I was reading the story of a
teen sasquatch being lonely
and wanting a friend.
Larf decided he wasn't ready to meet a girl
because he knew he smelled bad
because he hadn't had a bath (next page) EVER.
I held the book up to show the picture
and five year old Robert is sniffing his armpit.
I told him not to worry
because he wouldn't smell
until he was a teenager.

The Shredding Cat Decides

I carried kitty downstairs and sat by
Terry on his futon couch and said,
"I'm sorry, but I told you I was
expecting a call and I didn't
want to interrupt you but you
could have used the other phone line."
"Now Cloudy decides who was right or wrong by
seeing which one she attacks the most."
(She's a bad kitty)
Terry reached over to scratch her behind the ears
and she gave him one bite.
"See, you were wrong." I said smugly.
I reached over to scratch her behind the ears
and she flipped over and gave me
the full body press,
shredding me with her teeth,
front and back claws.
Terry started laughing his head off and said,
"The cat is right!"

Soldiers With Barrettes

I smiled at the cute little girl
as she carefully placed her books
like steps for me to zap with
my scanner.
"How was your vacation Susie?"
"Did you do anything interesting?" I asked.
Her eyes doubled in size and her eyebrows
shot up towards her scalp.
"Mrs. Nixon!" She exclaimed.
"We went to see the Nutcracker!"
"And guess what? It's a ballet
and my sister danced in it!"
I put on a serious face and said,
"Which part did she play?"
"She was a soldier and she had a costume
and everything! And she carried
a big giant barrette over her shoulder!"
I smiled and replied,
"That is so exciting Susie,
I wish I could have seen that."

Later I thought it over and decided
the world would be a much better place
if all the soldiers attacked each other
with hair care products
and the worst injury
was a bad hair cut.

The Wrong Pants

My pants slipped down a few inches again.
I tugged at the waistband again.
I knew I hadn't lost weight because
I had been eating like a pig lately.
I wasn't completely awake
because it was only eight in the morning.
I start working in my library
every morning at seven
but I wake up at nine.
I can do several functions efficiently
sleep-working, like setting up student folders
and laying out name tags.
I finished using the restroom
and noticed that the waistband on
these black slacks seemed wider than
what I remembered.
I put on my glasses and looked at it.
There were two thin yellow strips of
some sort of non-skid cord running around it.
I'd seen that before.
When I was doing laundry.
Not MY laundry.
I was wearing Troy's Safeway slacks!
That explained everything.
I hope no one noticed the girly girl
Gloria Vanderbilt embroidery on
the back of what he must wearing at work!

My Lucky Couch

"This is Jennifer with Lazy-Boy,
may I speak with Gretchen Nixon?"
The phone tingled in my fingertips
as I listened to the soft pleasant voice.
"This is she."
Jen said, "We can deliver your new couch this
Thursday, Friday or Saturday,
do you have a preference?
I told her Saturday would be perfect
since I'd be off work.
I started roaming
from calendar to calendar with my
favorite blue Flair pen.
"What is the date Saturday?"
I asked her.
"It's February first."
I froze.
"Do you know what Sunday is?"
I asked her.
She laughed and said she knew what Sunday was.
Just in case she was at a call center in India
I asked her where she was located and felt
relieved when she said she was in Kent.
Kent Washington not Kent England.
I said,"We'll have it for the you know what then."
"You sure will." Said Jen.

My Finest Moment

"Hi Gina, here are your books on outer space,
where do you want them?"
I unloaded the two dozen heavy books
on the front table she indicated.
As I turned to go Annette and Marian
rushed at me and hugged me.
They looked up at me with adoring eyes
and proclaimed,
"I want to be a librarian when I grow up!"
Franklin dashed over and chimed in
and we shared a tender moment
before they went out to join their
classmates for recess.
As I enjoyed our quick love-in,
I looked over the top of their
little third grade heads
over at Matt six feet away.
"Hey Mark! Don't you want to be
a librarian when you grow up?"
He looked at me seriously,
tilted up his tiny chin and proclaimed,
"Oh no Mrs. Nixon,
I want to be an author!"