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Finally…the day is over.

by admin on August 29th, 2007

Today was a loooooong day. I’m not going to lie, it seemed like 3 days rolled into one. I had to cover a ladies first period class because she got sick. That class sucked. It was huge, and kids were all over the place trying to get away with stuff. I don’t envy subs. I get treated poorly when I sub a class here, and I KNOW all the kids.

I won my basketball game at lunch 10-4, and it should’ve been 10-1 but a couple of his shots, falling down went in somehow. He wants a rematch. They always do. I might wear something other than crocs next time.

I’m just glad it’s all over….

I have a new home school student. It’s been 4 days in tracking her down. I got the request sheet last Wednesday. I a cell phone message for a person who’s name was not on the request sheet…so I don’t know how this person knows the student. IS it a mom? and aunt? a friend? Those messages are always fun to leave,

“uhm, yeah…I This is the Captain, and I work at ——-high school. I have [insert student’s name] as a student in the home and hospital program…I’d like to have you call me, and we could get started.”

That day I went to the other high school to get work for this student. The name on the sheet i had was written like this. (not the real name of the kid, just a made up one for an example) Mary SHume. It was written in messy handwriting.

I go to the attendance office, and request classes.

“We don’t have anyone with a last name of Shume here…”

Great. I go into the counselor for “S” and tell him. He looks. Not in the computer. We come to the conclusion that because of this injury, the girl hasn’t even bothered to register for school. I grab a registration packet. Call. Leave another message saying…”Hey ——- hasn’t registered for school. I have a packet for you to fill out, and as soon as it is completed, I’ll run it to her counselor, and get her started.”

The mom calls me on Thursday. Gives me directions. “My mailin’ address an’ mah home address ain’t the same…” she gives me her physical address, and it’s the same I have on my sheet. She informs me it’s a trailer park. No big deal. I get some more details, but I only sort ofpay attention…Kids are in my room talking to me, trying to work…it’s hard to hear.

I get the main idea of where she lives. I leave after school to go deliver the registration packet. I find the trailer park. I SHOULD have known from my years delivering pizzas…trailer parks are not laid out by math majors. Numbers are all over the place, some have letters attached to the number. We have 1, 1A, 5, 10, 12, 20 24B… The trailers are all various shapes and sizes…some suitable for camping. I drive in and out several times looking for a 19. There’s no 19.

Finally some guy notices me loittering longer than I guess is allowed in the park…and he gussies out of his “yard” to confront me. He’s got a full on gimp limp going on. He looks like he waltzed right out of 1989.

[Miami Vice] Whetter yoo lookin fer?” Kin ah help ye?”
[Captain] I’m looking for #19.
[Miami Vice] We ain’t got no #19…I’m securiteh’ ditis park…

I look down and dude has a badge on his belt. Judging by the amount of crap lying in the trialer park roadways I would say he’s yet to catch anyone for littering, or for anything. Being as I’m not moving…I might be a chance for his first bust. I bet he’d waited years for someone to see his “badge”

[Miami Vice] Well who’er looking fer?
[Captain] Mary Shume.
[Miami Vice] Ain’t nobodeh her with tha name….what you need ‘m fer
[Captain] I’m a school teacher, and this kid is on my home school program…
[Miami Vice] We ain’ got no kids in this park….
[Captain] well they’re high school age…so it’s not really a little kid
[Miami Vice] Well we ain’t got none…you got the wrong place. where exactly you lookin’ for.
[Captain] 1989 —– blvd. #19
[Miami Vice] Well that’s here…but I told y’ we ain’t got no kids here…you got the wrong place.
[Captain] Might be…I just have the address I have…and this is where they told me…
[Miami Vice] We ain’t got a 19…you got the wrong place.

I thanked him for his help, and drove off. Friday I called to get better directions, and the phone number was not in service. Great.

Monday passed with no contact, and finally, Tuesday the parent called. I told her she needed to register her daughter…she said she’d go drive down to the school and do it, to save time. Good.

Later that day the mom comes in and tells me…’She already registered at shcool….got classes and everything.’

I’m thinking. I was THERE. Mary Shume has no schedule at that school. Then I look at the sheet again, and figure it out. The writing was so poor that they put the middle initial in with the last name. Mary S. Hume became Mary SHume. I guess asking someone to put a period after a middle initial is way too much.

It was resolved, and ultimately…they do live in that trailer park. Vice Cop has no clue about his own precinct. They just live farther back than I bet he’s ever ventured. Their trailer doesn’t face the right way either…but it is numbered.

They also have a pit bull. When I went there yesterday the girl informed ‘He don’t bite…’

I wanted to say,

‘I wouldn’t tell Michael Vick that…he’d beat it with a hammer.’

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One Comment
  1. Jeff permalink

    You know… i actually saw a bona-fide pit rott today. Some lady was walking it through the parking lot where I work.

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