While everyone is susceptible, I believe that teachers are the biggest perpetrators in the pen purloining demographic. We view a good pen like a sommelier views a good wine. One does not leave a quality pen out in the open; unprotected, like a baby antelope among the lions.
It'd not like I don't try. But, c'mon. I'm human. If you cut me...do I not bleed? If you leave a cool pen unattended...will I not feel compelled to take it for my very own? My shame during this most recent fiasco was particularly poignant as I had recently led a youth Sunday School class on the 8th Commandment. We concluded the lesson with a brief writing activity. "Which pen do you want?" I asked each student. "The one I stole from the veterinarian's office, the one I stole from my dentist, or this nifty one I took from my mechanic? Oh! And here's one I stole from the church!" I will...one day...have much to answer for.
Temptation struck on a Thursday. I waltzed into the faculty room and immediately saw a magnificent purple pen bathed in a heavenly glow...sitting alone and vulnerable on a Chromebook. "Who's purple pen is this?" I asked Tyler, who had recently made the faculty room his personal office. As his student teacher, Silas, honed his skills in the classroom, Tyler took it upon himself to make his services available for staff consultation. He leads group discussions, is on the assembly advisory committee, offers his research skills to further and enhance curriculum, and mediates minor staff skirmishes (that are usually ignited by me). "The pen belongs to Felicia," Tyler said, not blinking an eye as I swept it up and waltzed out the door. In between grading and planning life-changing lesson plans, I orchestrated a small scavenger hunt for Felicia...fun-lovin' gal that she is.
I returned to the faculty room and was peering hopefully into the fridge as I awaited the arrival of my scavenger hunt clues from the copier when Felicia arrived. "There's my Chromebook" she exclaimed. I thought I spotted a chocolate-covered strawberry in the very depths of the fridge so I leaned further in. "Wait a minute," Felicia said, her voice dropping suspiciously. "Where's my pen?" I froze, waiting for Tyler's reaction but apparently he was as frightened as me. She began a frantic search. Floor. Behind the bookcase. She grilled Tyler who remained stoic-ly strong before she stormed out. We breathed a sigh of relief. Whew! That was close.
Copies in hand...I placed my scavenger hunt clues strategically around the school before carefully taping the pen into the paw of "Buster Bear" the giant cardboard decoration that guards my classroom door during Food Drive Week. Minutes later, a furious Felicia burst into my room. "Where is it?" she shouted, advancing upon me. "Wha...wha...where's what?" I stammered, fearing for my very life. "Don't get cute with me, Amy," she growled, rummaging through the highly-confidential state-secret papers littering my desk. I cowered in the corner, shaking like a leaf. "I'll be back!" she threatened, Terminator-style, stomping out of my room. Oh my goodness...what was I thinking? Was a pen worth the risk of my life? "Maybe you should have met with me first before putting this little plan of your's into action," Tyler advised. Too bad, buddy. If I'm going down...I'm taking you with me. Silence implies consent.
Fortunately, some 3rd grade super-sleuths joined Felicia in her quest to retrieve her lost treasure and before you knew it...she was again at my door. "Was my pen taped to that stupid bear the first time I was here?" she snarled. I nodded, glancing for my phone in case I needed to make an emergency call. Felicia pointed her pen at me like a weapon. "We have Zumba today," she reminded me, "I'll make you pay for what you've done." Pen in hand, she left me there, speechless. The story over. That was all she wrote.
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