So, I made sure that every kid turned in his or her cell phone. I made sure that I turned mine off, having been warned against taking pictures of the test. I made sure that each and every student had their chance at the bathroom since I had no intention of sending anyone to the bathroom during the test. Because of all of the academic content recorded on the stalls in the bathroom, you know.
But what is the regulation involving infiltration by vermin? Here’s the scenario: a girl raises her hand, and I tiptoe over to her, so as not to disturb the cathedral-like silence that befalls the classroom during this one time of year, under threat of nuclear annihilation and zero score if they talk. She says, “I don’t feel very good. There’s a cockroach in Ruby’s desk.” She is seated at that very desk. I ask her if she would like to change her seat; since I can only send someone who is “not feeling good” to the nurse if there is a large amount of blood or a Joe Theisman compound fracture. Thankfully, she agrees, and finishes her test.
Let’s face it; the cockroach probably did photograph the test, and by the time we (read: student) had flushed it out and killed it, the little spy had probably leaked it to cockroaches all over the world, who are poised to exceed our school’s scores when they have to take the same test in a couple of weeks. It will all be traced back to me and my lackadaisical security measures, and I will be deemed an ineffective and dangerous teacher, losing my position, putting our nation’s competitiveness at even greater peril, and seeking work at Orkin.
Illustration– http://abcdele.info/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/La_Cucaracha-150×150.jpg

Betty and I collaborated again this evening; we made the “healthy” cake mix concoction where you add a can of pumpkin and none of the oil and eggs that the box calls for. This time, I tried something loosely named “Carrot Cake.” Except that the fine print under “Carrot Cake” said “with carrot flavored pieces.” This should have read, “with no carrot whatsoever,” but someone (I presume Betty herself) thought these carrot flavored pieces would be a better selling point. Damn it, Betty!
No, this is not going to be a lush photo montage of the up-close and earthy beauty of the humble potato. God knows there are a thousand more talented photo-bloggers out there who are setting up that very photo shoot right now. I, on the other hand, am more concerned about the enduring humor of the potato.
If you want to cheat at video games and the like, that’s actually pretty cool, right? I mean, I am pretty sure that an opponent of mine in Words with Friends is running some kind of fishy word generator, because his vocabulary has developed dramatically since I have been playing the game with him.That’s okay, I cheerfully meet his “vext” with “tan.”