What's Up, Snacky Cat?

A while back, I voiced my concern about strange goings-on in my classroom. Things were moved just a tad. Pencils and pens rearranged. The mysterious Wite Out/Liquid Paper correction pen switcheroo. A lipstick-blotted tissue in my deskside wastebasket.

This morning, I plopped down behind my command center. I unpacked my bifocals in their green hard case, and my flash drive in its dual, cushy, gray, nylon-and-Velcro holder. I logged on to my desk laptop. Five times. You'd think they could streamline that process, instead of requiring separate entries for laptop, PowerSchool, GradeBook, email, and Gaggle. Especially when some of them time out if not used frequently enough over the course of the day. It's a full-time job, practically, to maintain access to such learning accouterments, all the while trying to implement actual learning. I'm not sold on such a high security clearance. It's not like we're running The Denver Mint.

I glanced at the phone, which thankfully does not demand a password unless I desire to hear a message that some inconsiderate person has left me, not taking into account my aversion to all things tech. And there, by the phone, under that off-white dealybobber that looks like a Wiimote, but fatter, with a cord attached to something computery, was a particle of unknown origin. It looked like some kind of food. I quickly assessed my snack situation. Nope. Nothing that color or shape. The closest would be a crumb off a cinnamon raisin snack bar. And this was no crumb. It had a definite shape. An "X" shape.

I picked up the unidentified newfound object. It looked for all intents and purposes like a tidbit of cat food. Now WHO could be seeding my computer accessory table with cat food? I was flummoxed. Bewildered. Perplexed. I showed it to a colleague in the hall between classes. The one who told me the other business was all in my head. Even she was confused.

During my plan time 2nd hour, I reached for my school bag to find a paper I needed to correct. There, in the bottom of that red Office Max teacher-appreciating red canvas bag with black straps, was the equivalent of a cup of Meow Mix. I'm supposing that my flash drive case picked up a piece and disgorged it when I tossed the flash drive on the table.

The Pony has grown careless in distributing our bribe that keeps Juno on the porch each morning. Perhaps I should carry my own bag to the car.