Open Evening approaches, and every teacher knows that laminating a piece of colourful work is a sure-fire way to a successful wall display: never mind the spelling mistakes, look at the glossy prettiness of it! So a week’s worth of “make a poster” homeworks is often swiftly followed by the daily lunchtime battle to access the school’s only laminator.
Our laminator is kept in a small room the size of a broom cupboard, with one small window to let out the fumes of melting plastic, and so usually the queue snakes round outside, and many teachers happily stand in this line to exchange gossip and flap their posters with increasing impatience. From experience I know that this queue subsides about halfway through the lunch break, as the initial rush has subsided, and the “before the bell goes” crew haven’t yet turned up. So I found myself at the back of the queue, and inched nearer the front until finally I was the only one left. It’s the prerogative of the second in line to squeeze into the laminator room and stare at the back of the neck of the person currently hunched over the machine, and so I took advantage of this, and it wasn’t long before that teacher left, waving glossy posters in their wake.
Spreading my posters over the table, I began to get into the routine of selecting the right sized plastic
envelope, popping the poster inside, feeding it through the machine, and then waiting while it slowly ground
its way through. You just can’t rush the laminator. Believe me, I’ve tried, and I’ve got the melted plastic
and concertinaed posters to show for it. So I was standing there, staring at the wall as I waited for each
process to take place, getting a bit bored. The door opened a couple of times with somebody saying something
like, “Oh I was looking for…” before the door eased closed again, but I just carried on with my laminating.
And when you’re slightly bored in small room with nothing much to look at, I’m sure you find yourself humming
to yourself, sighing, scratching your arse, picking your nose, maybe letting off wind that you’ve held in all
morning, just as I probably did standing there waiting for the machine to finish.
So imagine my horror when I turned to leave the room with armfuls of posters, and saw that I was not alone, for in the corner was another teacher who was making a point of staring up towards the tiny window. Where had she come from? Why had she not spoken? I mumbled “Hello” and then quickly scarpered, my face creased up in that expression that says: “Oh noooooooooooo, what did I do in there when I thought I was all alone?” She must have come through the door when I heard it opening and closing, but assumed that it was just people popping their heads round rather than scuttling into the corner to await their turns. But I’d been in such a laminator-induced reverie that I had no idea how much sub-conscious farting , scratching or picking I’d been doing.
Well I’ve learned my lesson now. I shall never ever assume I’m alone anywhere in the school again. And I shall avoid that teacher like the plague until at least after half term.
added 7/10/06
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