This year has allowed me to get to know my colleagues a lot better and has forced me to re-examine prior notions about a few of them. It has not, however, made me change my mind about Marla. We’ve always been cool. We’re very similar in many ways, and best of all, we can read it each other really well. This of course, lends itself to other types of interactions like sharing secrets, being there for each other when we need to vent, and playing jokes on one another.
This is why, when I came back to work on Thursday, after being gone for a training on Wednesday, there was a slight chance that she was the one that’d taken my Gil, and left in his place a letter that read:
Help! I think they’re going to put me in an oven. I hiding in a closet. Wait, I
think I hear somebody coming…oh no! Hurry!
Now, upon reading this, I examined the handwriting and thought of possible suspects; but quickly dismissed those possibilities because I knew they wouldn’t make such a glaring subject verb agreement. I was really blaming it on one of the math teachers, but not Marla. This teacher would always saunter by and call me “Ms. Peacock.”
The day went on; I had to teach class and could not take time out to look for my poor Gil. I told my first class about the turkeynapping and they, like me, automatically accused all of the people on the sixth grade team. They told me they’d keep an eye out for him.
Homeroom time came around. Although these kids can drive me nuts with their talking sometimes, I love them and they love me. Thursday, it was crystal.
“Ms. What happened to your turkey?”
“It’s gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean?”
“Someone kidnapped him and left this in his place,” I said as I held the note before them.
“What! How could they do that?”
“I bet you it was Ms. B!”
“No, I think I saw it in Mr. O’s class.”
“It was Mr. C and Mr. A because they were begging us to buy them feathers yesterday!”
“Well, whoever it was, I think I need to make some posters so people know I’m looking for him.”
“We’ll help you Ms!”
Within five minutes, I had a slew of “Missing Turkey” flyers and a crew of kids putting up posters in the hallway.
During lunch, I continued giving everyone a hard time. Calling them all “turkey snatchers,” and saying, “It’s okay; I’ve got a lot of little detectives on my side.”
The science wing people hadn’t heard and so they asked what was going on. As I told them, Marla asked, “Well, what did the notes say?”
“Notes? You mean there’s more? How do you know? It was you, wasn’t it?”
I don’t remember her reply, but I know her answer didn’t satisfy me.
As we were walking to the cafeteria to report for after lunch duty, I found a note in my mailbox. This one read:
Help me! It’s getting really hot in here. I heard them talking about stuffing
me…please find me!
We walked into the cafeteria to find Mr. A, the counselor, holding up
one of the signs my kids had made telling the 6th grade diners about my turkey. As I walked
around the cafeteria, the kids were all calling my name and telling me who they
thought had taken Gil.
The rest of the day, assistant principals,
teachers, students, even the aides asked if I’d found Gil. And of course, I
always had to say no. I was starting to wonder if I would ever get him back. I
was so proud of how big his tail had gotten and I really wanted to get him
laminated.
At the end of the day, we were having a bridal shower for one
of the ladies on our team. Most of my day had been spent on preparations for
this event, but we couldn’t really put any of this up because our classes were
going to the library which is where we were hosting the shower. When the final bell of
the day rang, I rushed down to the library to finish setting up.
It wasn't until we had everything set up, that I remembered I’d left the napkins in my
classroom. I ran up the stairs and found one my students, who is also a Watt
Watcher for Student Council, writing on the “missing turkey poster” posted on my
door. (She’s the sweetest kid too. My pick for student of the month)
“Ms! It was Ms. B and Mr. O! There’s Gil!” she said as she
pointed toward my first suspect’s classroom.
Indeed, there he was.
Hanging from Mrs. H’s flag outside her door. Mrs H. looked at me and said, “I
saw them do it but I was sworn not to tell you! I was so upset! By the way, I
should be looking shocked.”
I carefully pulled down Gil and took him to
my classroom and laid him on my desk. At last, he was safe and sound.
