Deadlines, Dumbledore & Hail

I know you’re dying to know how last week’s double whammy deadline went. (Remember, some deranged person who skipped out of town the previous week, decided to have newspaper and yearbook deadline the same week?)

Well, newspaper made it out, but the jury’s still out on yearbook because I still have to sort through those pages right after I sort through 140 project pieces from a photography portrait assignment that some crackhead teacher (Oh, wait, that would be me… Now, before the rumors fly, let me just say I am not nor have I ever been a crackhead… Jeez, I’m starting to sound like Richard Nixon)… Rather, it’s simply my favorite hyperbole–no, not the Nixon thing, but the crackhead thing…

Ok, enough of my whining, let’s get back to the subject at hand… Deadlines always bring up a wealth of material for the Blogosphere. Some, sad to say, simply is not printable. For instance, the kids were all a bit discombobulated after J.K. Rowling outed Dumbledore. But I couldn’t discuss the matter with them at that moment because I had another urgent matter to attend to–dance practice for the Rock Star Pep Rally (and yes, that’s an entirely different story). So after admonishing them to remain focused, I left.

I’m sure it took all of, oh, about 10 seconds before the staff unanimously decided the Dumbledore revelation was more pressing then getting the newspaper to press. From what I've been able to piece together, the following occurred during my brief absence…

•Some sort of dancing was involved. On top of the table.

•Pizza Andy and British accents were involved. Repeat After Me: When British accents are involved, No Good Can Come Of This.

•In a burst of sudden creativity, the staff decided J.K. Rowling should re-release the Harry Potter series, but from Dumbledore’s perspective. Naturally, this meant that instead of writing headlines for their newspaper articles, the staff had to rename all the Harry Potter books. (After all, why should they work on their newspaper pages?) Of course, political correctness flew right out the door. The tamest one, I believe, was Harry Potter and the Closet of Secrets.

When I returned, I duly chastised the children and settled down to proof what little work had been done.

And there it was… “hail bails.”

So I said, “Hmmm, I’ve always been a city girl, but even I know that ‘hail bails’ should be h-a-y b-a-l-e-s… Unless, of course, we are bonding out frozen pellets from the hoosegow.”

Don’t even get me started on the time (years ago and at another school) when self-of-steam reared its ugly head.

Yes, that’s right.

Self-of-steam.

Or, softmore.

And, with that in mind, I thought it best for everyone involved for us to call it a night before Pizza Andy started talking British again and bad things happened.