Less-than Organized Chaos

Today was the second day of the first full week of school, and I have already accosted the principal when he least expected it. He has this tendency to hang out and chat with the police officers that are assigned to school pickup duty. I apparently have a tendency to interrupt his chats to bother him about things that I assume a principal should already know. He has learned to put on his best frozen smile expression when he sees me coming.

Principal Input, thus named by me for his annoying habit of responding to emailed concerns with only the words, "Thanks for your input," followed by signing his first name, makes me seriously wonder if I am wasting my time talking with him. I figure it is probably better than just glaring in his random direction and infinitely more mature than blowing raspberries at him. Despite my comments here, I really do try to pretend I have some respect for the man so that the kidlets do not automatically assume he is a pushover. However, I believe that he really does not handle confrontations well, and should therefore not even attempt to take on the role of school principal. Besides, any skinny man that stands out in front of the school in twenty degree weather without wearing a coat, gloves, or even a hat to cover his shiny scalp makes me wonder whether his elevator goes all the way to the top floor.

Anyway, Principal Input pretends to tolerate me about as well as I tolerate him. Today, he asked how he could help me. I proceeded to tell him my concerns about the random mass of less-than organized chaos that are the students' class lines between 8:05 and 8:15 AM. I told him that taking away the orange cones to delineate line locations and the nice, propped up signs that stated teacher names was making it very difficult for a goodly number of first graders to determine where to stand. I explained that the third grade students, who line up next to the panicked first graders, did not even attempt lines, and they were adding to the confusion. I further explained that the third and fourth graders are running, shoving one another, playing tag, knocking over people accidentally, and that no one seems to be even attempting to get them where they need to be. Horse indignantly piped up that she was not doing such misbehavior, so I amended my comments that it is not all of the third and fourth graders, but a number of them.

Principal Input told me he has a teacher in charge of that area, and asked if I see "them." (Note: He did not appear to remember even the gender of the assigned teacher, let alone said teacher's name.) I explained that I see a lot of adults out there, but I have no idea who is in charge, or even which adults are parents hanging out to chat versus teachers paid to maintain order. He told me he will let "them" know of the situation. (Note: I'm fairly certain this is the real-life version of, "Thanks for your input.") Principal Input followed up by telling me he would take care of my problem for me. (Note: It's not my problem. I'm there, every morning, watching to make sure my own kidlets are behaving, and have even been known to speak up to tell students I do not know to stop trying to push, shove, knock down, or steal things from the others.)

I never knew just how much I would be missing the usual assigned adult. Mr. Megaphone normally patrols the outside lines and shouts at the kidlets through his bullhorn. They might not react immediately, having had numerous years' worth of experience ignoring him, but they were a heck of a lot calmer than the mess that exists now. Unfortunately, Mr. Megaphone had surgery this summer, and is not supposed to return to school for another month.

What a mess Mr. Megaphone will return to after his recovery. Please, Mr. Megaphone, heal properly and come back and get these morning lines into shape. I did not know what a good thing we had until you were gone. And to the not so dear principal of my kidlets' school, thanks for your input.