The day I stole underwear

I never thought I would be the type of person to steal lingerie.

It is a desperate woman who strips a mannequin of her underwear.  Today that person was me.

Twas the best of times, Twas the worst of times.

Ummmm... I am having some trouble starting this post.  Afterall, how do you admit to the world that you hijacked a pair of underwear from Victoria's Secret?  Tell me!  How do you confess such a thing to the blogosphere?!?

It wasn't my fault.  I swear.  Fast forward to last weekend when I was casually shopping  and wandered into V.S. to look at some Valentine Day lingerie.  One piece of clothing (can you call it that?) caught my eye.  I tried it on.  I liked it. I decided to buy it.

Stop there.  There was already a never ending line on this Saturday afternoon, and I was already late to meet Hubs for lunch.  I looked at my watch.  The underwear would have to wait.

Rewind to today.  I strolled on into Victoria's Secret, confident as sin that I could buy my little pair of undies and head right back out the door, no problem.  I looked around casually first so to appear that I wasn't some kind of an underwear freak who knew exactly what she wanted upon entering the store.  You can't just make a beeline for something in a lingerie store, people!  Others will think you're a freak!

So I played it cool.  Looked at lingerie I knew I wouldn't buy.  Slowly made my way over to the display where my coveted undies were calling my name.  Once I arrived at the display, however, I discovered, much to my dismay, that said underwear was sold out.

SOLD OUT, I TELL YOU!

OUT OUT OUT!  How does V.S. sell out of its sexiest undies four days before its biggest day of the year?!?  You don't see Santa running out of toys on December 21, do you?  Step up Victoria's Secret, and learn how to run a business for crying out loud!

That's when I saw the mannequin.  Mannequin wearing MY underwear.  Taunting.  Waving.  Seducing me.  That underwear could be mine in the blink of an eye with one quick maneuver.  I looked at the V.S. worker nearby, carefully arranging padded bras and lacy thongs.  She turned her back.  This was my big moment.

I worked quickly on that mannequin, my fingers moving with a ferocity never know before.  Within seconds I had successfully slipped the underwear down and right off of that mannequin forever.  It's a strange feeling to be stripping undies from a lifeless figure, taking something you're not supposed to have while at the same time leaving a skinny mannequin completely underwearless.

Let's just say I wouldn't recommend it.

With the underwear successfully in my hand, I glanced oh so casually around the store.  Had anyone seen my crime on this lazy Thursday afternoon?   I slowly wandered on over (play it cool, Bonnie, play it cool!) to the check out.  There was a buxom blonde at the register.  I assessed her, as you always must when committing a crime.  How smart was this lady?  Would she know the store was currently sold out of this particular style of underwear?  Would she realize that the only pair left was in fact just moments ago stripped from an innocent mannequin?  Would she take one look at my purchase and know me instantly for what I really was- a thief and a mannequin pervert?

I played it cool while I tried to figure her out.  Tried on some perfume here, some perfume there.  Took a bath in strawberries and champagne body spray.  Tested some more.  Put on some lotion.  Rubbed cream all over.  Blondie looked up, "You just love all those scents, don't you?"

Oh, shoot.  She was onto me.  Time to proceed to checkout.  Everything cool here.  No one doing nothing they're not supposed to.  I slid the underwear across the counter and then proceeded to talk a mile a minute (always ALWAYS my strategy when I think I am in trouble) "Isn't it crazy that it's already February, wow how the year goes, especially this year, hardly even had a winter, wow I love that watch, beautiful, my problem is I always lose watches or they break when I play volleyball or something like that, but I do love them, just can't keep them on my wrist, you know, I wish Victoria Secret sold their every day clothes in the store instead of just online, they're so cute, you know, I'm sure you'd get a lot of business, so you got any weekend plans? Friday is tomorrow you know an-"

"Ma'am.  Here is your purchase."  That speedy miss had already bagged up the lingerie, scanned my card, and completed the transaction before I had even gotten halfway through my monologue.
But the joke was on her. In that bag she handed to me was the stolen underwear, and with it my ticket to a successful getaway.  I gently took the bag and moseyed on out of the store, acting interested in pajama sets and tight tank tops.  Can't go blowing the whole gig now, you know.  Gotta play it cool until the very end. 

As soon as I was out of that store, though, I booked it.  Straight up ran out to my car.  I just knew that any second those workers were bound to see the bottomless mannequin and know that it was me who had so disrespectfully undressed their most prized display.


That's why you should never steal lingerie from a mannequin.
 
And that was the day I started my career as a professional underwear thief.
 
Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.
 
umm... having trouble ending this post.  Just know that I stole underwear today and lived to tell the tale.

Shocking, Shockinger, Shockingest

Shocking


Today I turned around to see one of my students, Adam, blatantly using his cell phone.  Not even texting from his pocket, not dialing from under the desk, nope, just straight up cell-phone-using right in front of my face.  You would think that after five months of being in my class every other day and after having heard oh-so-many times "NO CELL PHONES" that my students would get the hint. You'd think after seeing me take away dozens of their classmates phones (they use it in class, I take it until the end of the day.  Simple rule.)  they would learn to just put the dang phone away.


Shockinger


After I took away said cell phone from Adam, he shrugged his shoulders, gave that look that said, "Oh yah, teacher girl, well guess what?  I don't give an f," and put his head down on the desk.  When the bell rang and Adam approached me to get his phone back I waved my sassy little finger at him and declared, "Oh, no you don't.  You'll have to wait until the end of the day to get this bad boy back."


Adam's reaction was...let's see, how do I say this in terms you would understand....

Adam freaked out.

He stormed toward the door yelling, "This is a f***ing joke!"

My reaction to Adam's reaction was...let's see, how do I say this in terms you would understand....

I freaked out.

My kids know I hate the f word and they know that it is absolutely under no circumstances allowed in my classroom.

"Okay, then, you know what?  You can go talk to the vice principal about it if you're going to throw a fit.  I don't care!  You knew what the rule was when you entered the classroom and you made the decision to break the rule therefore you must suffer the consequence, and you do not be saying that word in my classroom because you chose to disobey, got it?!?!"

Wow.  I was really worked up.

Adam looked mildly surprised by my sudden outburst.  "K, sorry..." he mumbled and hurried his butt right out of the classroom.

Shockingest


I had long since forgotten the incident with Adam and was busy during my prep period, grading papers and planning lessons.  I heard a noise at the door and turned around to see Adam entering timidly.  He approached my desk with his hands behind his back and hesitated before speaking, "Uh... Teacher?"

"What's up, Adam?"

"I just wanted to say... I'm really sorry for my behavior in your class room today."

I could tell he was uncomfortable and I appreciated his gesture, so I decided to just put the poor thing out of his misery, "Thank you, Adam.  I appreciate you coming in."

Much to my surprise, he went on.  "I was frustrated about other things, and I took it all out on you.  I knew I wasn't supposed to be on my phone and I knew I wasn't supposed to say that word.  I'm just really sorry for how I reacted.  You're a good teacher, and you don't deserve that.  I'll never do that again."


He breathed a big sigh of relief and I could tell he was finished.


"Thank you, Adam.  That's very mature of you to come in and say that.  I accept your apology, and I'll see you on Friday."


Adam shuffled out of the room, and I watched him as he gently shut the door.


I'll tell you.  Sometimes those seventeen year olds just go ahead and shock the hell right out of me.

All in a day's work.
The cell phones I confiscated today.

Oops

What is the best way to start a Monday morning?

Is it....

Waking up an hour late, and therefore showing up to work an hour late to see 40 students clammering outside your classroom begging to be let in while the Vice-principal loses her hair from stress, trying to control the students and wondering where in the world their teacher is?!?

No.  No it is not the best way to start a Monday morning.

The good news is I didn't get a speeding ticket.

And believe you me, I was speeding.

P.S.  As a side note... guess who made the newspaper today?  ME!  If you already read my Jazz post last week then it's nothing new for you.  Here's the link if you want to see it... and a few mean comments that people have been leaving too!  You can't win em all, I suppose... 

So sorry, Mr. President

My junior classes have been reading the book Tuesdays with Morrie, a story of a man who finds out he is dying.  Before we started the book I had the students get together in groups and write on a poster everything they would do if they knew they were going to die in the next six months.  Some students were serious about the assignment (spend time with friends and family, say sorry to anyone I may have offended, etc.) while others were not-so-serious (steal a car and drive all across America picking up hitch-hikers, act in a movie with Leonardo Dicaprio, eat an In-n-out hamburger every day for lunch).  The posters looked good enough, I skimmed over them and said to my student aide, "Aide!  Tape these posters in the hall so everyone can see how hard we've been a-working in here!" 

And that was that.

Yesterday I was sitting at my desk in between classes.  You know, just dinking around, surfing the net while the little ruffians wandered their way into my classroom.  "Teacher, may I have a word with you in the hallway?"  The sterness of the voice made me jump.  It was the Vice Principal of the school.  In my classroom.  Watching me scroll around on Etsy.

I obediently followed VP out into the hallway.  I could quickly tell that the situation was one of utmost gravity.
"Teacher.  I have to talk to you about something quite serious."
"Ok..."
"We can not have anybody making any death threats to the president at this school.  It is strictly prohibited."
"Ok..."  I thought quickly to the last time time I threatened to kill Obama.  Nothing came to mind.
"I hope you understand."
"Um... yah, actually... I don't.  I have never threatened Obama.  In fact, I couldn't possibly care less about the guy."
"The school received a report of a death threat.  On these posters in the hallway, the students have indicated that they are planning to kill the president."  VP directed my eyes to a comment written on one of the giant posters hanging in the hall.

It read: "If I found out I was going to die from a terminal disease, I'd shoot the president."
I turned red immediately.  Kids these days.  They'll write anything if you let them. 

"Oh, wow.  I'm sorry.  I didn't notice that."
"It's okay.  Just take it down.  You were reported this morning, so I had to come down myself to investigate, and I found the claims against you to be true."
Whoa whoa whoa.  Now this was starting to sound like some kind of a criminal case.  I was reported?  What does that even mean?  Somebody really thought that I've been down here in this corner of the school, plotting with my students to kill Mr. Prez?

"I'm sorry VP."

"It's okay, Teacher.  You just need to be aware that those threats are inappropriate, and the posters need to be taken down immediately.  This kind of behavior should not be encouraged."  Which surprised me, because I always had thought it was okay to encourage assassination.
"Okay no problem.  I'll take them down right now."
VP started walking away and I stared at the posters in bewliderment, trying to figure out what students had written that, how it had gotten past me, and what teacher cared enough to read the poster and then "report" me.
"Oh and Teacher?"  VP turned around.
"Yes?"
"You'll also need to take the poster down with the threat to Justin Beiber."
"Justin Beiber?"
"Yes.  It is not okay for your students to write they are going to slap him across the face."

And with that, VP was gone, marching down the hallways to maintain the perfect order that exists within these four walls.

Once he was out of sight, I studied the posters carefully.  Upon further examination I discovered I had actually been let off easy.  In reality there were three threats to the president, (don't ask me why they all suddenly want to kill the poor man.  You know how it is with16 year olds- one person says something and the whole lot of them jump on the bandwagon.) two threats to Justin Beiber, and one disillsioned student wrote that he planned to "knock up Selena Gomez" before he kicked the bucket.

Welp, looks like I'll be reading my students' work a little more closely from here on out.  Those kids, they'll pull a fast one on you if you're not careful.