09/10/2003
My teacher friends will identify with the following scenario. You've overslept, rushed to school in a panic completely unprepared, you don't have any student lists, you're in the wrong classroom, your principle is looking for you, you can't get through the crowded halls and you're not wearing pants.
Then you wake up startled and snap your neck only to see your alarm clock read 5:07 am. Too early to get up, but too late to get back to sleep. Anxiety dreams. Everyone has them, but how many people can say they lived one?
I went to bed early the night before the first day of school. Homeroom was scheduled to begin at 8am and we were expected to be in our classrooms by 7:45. I looked through my wardrobe, chose an appropriate tie and set my outfit aside before setting my alarm and dozing off. I can't remember a specific dream, but I have the sense that I was in a deep sleep. I never heard my alarm.
I woke up to the sound of my front door being unlocked and my maid calling out "Hello?" When I opened my eyes the room was entirely too bright. My clock read 7:53am. My heart stopped, but I didn't panic. I examined the clock more closely and watched it change to 7:54. Then I panicked.
I frantically called out to my maid as politely as I could and asked her to return in five minutes. I sprang from bed, barely got wet in the shower, threw my clothes on without toweling off, and ran out the door. Luckily I live on campus and literally ran down a flight of stairs, walked briskly out the front door of one building, rushed across a small side street and into the front door of the high school building. I signed in at the front desk at precisely 7:58 and was met by my principal. He reached out, straightened my tie and sent me to class.
Luckily he has a great sense of humor and he laughed about it, so I don't think there will be any long term negative effects. As first days go, this one went surprisingly well. The students were polite and cooperative, schedules worked and I even found ten minutes somewhere to return home and spruce up a bit. There was a minor spider incident during my last class, but even that was handled well.
Last class of the day with about five minutes left, a student jerks his feet off the floor and gasps. Another student points to the floor and yells "Spider!" Other students shriek. I roll my eyes and step forward to get a better look. I'm about to give the old, "C'mon, relax, it won't hurt you." speech, but then I stop dead in my tracks. A large, dark, hairy, arachnid, the size of my palm, is inching slowly over the linoleum between two desks. I've never seen a tarantula in the wild so I was a bit surprised myself. In my defense though, it never occurred to me that a middle school classroom would be a natural habitat for predatory creepy crawlies.
I was the consummate professional. I coaxed the errant insect into a small cardboard box, placed the lid, and set it aside before pandemonium ensued. My calm demeanor belied the extreme willies I was experiencing inside and the students were soon on their way out the door murmuring to their friends about the fearless new science teacher who wrangles spiders.
I brought my little friend to a resident biology teacher who has adopted it as a classroom pet. Apparently it is not technically a tarantula. Although the resemblance is uncanny, it is called a Banana Spider and does not share the trait of venomous fangs enjoyed by its more famous cousin. This does not comfort me and technically they still give me the willies. They are also numerous and indigenous. That's a fancy word for "they were here first" and I'm sure it's only a matter of time before they wise up and demand their banana trees back.
I've had worse nightmares, but as first days of school go, this was a pretty good one.
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