"Tyler's" plan

"Amy, I have a suggestion," my friend Tyler said, strolling into my classroom about a week before the state tests. He's like Dean Martin, reincarnated. All that's missing is the martini. I glanced up. Nothing good has ever come out of conversation with Tyler. The last time he had a "suggestion," I ended up lopsidedly hopping across a stage wearing a neon pink wig.

"What?" I sighed. He leaned against my desk with the effortless elegance of a Rat Packer. Well, he's got the rat part right, I thought to myself. "To build morale for the students during the state tests, we should plan small daily events." I squinted at him suspiciously. Sure...he had the whole school convinced that his prime motivation for living was for the betterment of the children but I knew better. All of his altruistic after-school programs, his coaching, his so-called "team-spirit", his desire to be shaved bald for a good cause? He even makes it a point to wear a suit on School t-shirt Fridays. All just a front to make me look bad.

"What sort of small event," I asked. His slim shoulders shrugged and with a small smile on his face, he said, "I don't know. Let's think about it and meet again later." I seethed as he disappeared out the door. You guessed it. There WAS no follow-up meeting. There was just me, spending hours designing a logo, printing and laminating the poster, wrestling a giant graph up onto the wall, concocting the most complicated color-coded schedule EVER, repeating directions to seven teachers over and over again when I was asked, "Wait. You want me to do WHAT!?!?"

We determined a time..."We have special then"...scribble, scribble, scratch, scratch...we re-determined a time..."That's our reading group time"...scribble, scribble, scratch, scratch...and arrived LATE to our determined times. "Amy, not to criticize," Tyler said critically, "but your schedule said we'd begin at 11:50." The next day's schedule was printed with the start time at 11:51. Tyler really brought a lot to "our" little morale-building program. And why on earth did I even PRINT a schedule...EVERY day?!?  Either no one read it at all or they would rush down to point out my errors. Team-building, my @$$.

I proceeded delicately when it was time to collect everyone's five dollar contribution to the winning class's pizza party. Rather than point an accusing finger at those derelict in their donations, I chose to shine a congratulatory spotlight upon the responsible parties who promptly paid up. And of course I sang their praises on the daily color-coded schedule. My donation-defaulters attacked. "Ohhhh...you'll GET your money," my friend Michelle hissed, "in pennies!"

I arranged an end-of-program photo shoot (as a way to get everyone to help me wrestle DOWN the giant graph and laminated logo) where I was subjected to a litany of complaints. Tyler mostly stood there smiling as my ideas, intellect, wardrobe, and personality were assaulted. "Maybe you can come up with a better plan next year," he commiserated before sidling off down the hallway, whistling. His diabolical plan had worked again.