Walking back to my room after prep, I realize something is wrong.
It’s quiet. Too quiet. My class is usually rambunctious and chatty in the room after health. I can always hear them coming down the hall. Randoms words, whispers, bangs, booms, and the scrapes of chairs against the floor lead me like a leashed dog back to my classroom. But today is different. No voices. No metal chairs scraping against the hard floor. No bangs. No booms. No laughter.
Why can’t I hear anything?
I begin running scenarios through my head. But I know what’s wrong. Silence means trouble. Silence in a room of school children practically screams, “WE GOT YELLED AT!”
Walking in the door, I survey the room. Twenty some-odd preteens sitting at their desks like perfect angels. That’s always the number one sign that they are anything but.
I glance at their health teacher only to see her sigh and motion me outside the door. I can see it in her eyes- all teachers look the same when they have had it with “that”class. And it was last period. A double whammy for the poor health teacher.
“What did they do?!”
As she explained their overly-rambunctious behavior, resulting in my neighbor teacher coming in to scold them, I nodded and began plotting how to deal with this sudden onset of spring fever, come 3 weeks early.