2004-03-06 - 6:16 p.m.
Just yesterday morning, I managed to break a phone. Yes that's right, I broke a telephone.
I'm a TA for Mr. Stallings (the most awesome teacher in my school) and every morning the powers that be read the bulletin over the "P.A" system, which is really our phones. You must realize that being a "teacher's assistant", it is my single, solitary responsibility to pick up the phone from the back table and move it about 5 feet to his desk and point it at the class. That's it. Nothing else. Some assistant, huh?
Yesterday, I failed to do this.
It makes it much worse that he even has a 20 foot long phone cord, just so there's enough slack in it for it to survive a good trip. But anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, so I put the phone on his desk, just as I've done every single day this semester, and as turn around, you'll never guess what I tripped over.
The 20 foot long, trip-free phone cord.
Unfortunately, this time it wasn't trip free. In fact it was very tripable. Trust me, I would know.
So as I hit the cord (which was completely tangled up, causing the lack of slack), I saw the phone crash down to the ground in slow motion, just before it SHATTERED on his hard, tile floor.
Sadly enough, that wasn't nearly the worst part. It was all downhill from there.
The worst part was the momentary silence that followed. The entire classroom was quiet, all except for dear old Mr. Stallings who didn't hesitate to erupt in laughter.
What made that even worse was when we tried to fix the phone. Both of us were laughing so hard we could hardly see, and the class was completely astonished that their educators were so immature.
When we finally got all of the pieces back together, we tried to catch the last of the bulletin.
Remember when I said the silence was the worst part?
I lied.
So as we try to turn it back on again, we hear a faint hum coming out of the phone that it'd never done before. We soon realize, as we turn up the volume, that the hum IS the bulletin. This "P.A." system that used to be heard from the far side of a large room, could barely produce a whisper on maximum volume.
I guess you could call it my bad.
The morning went on as usual from there: He gave me the bulletin to read, only for me to find out half way throught that it was from a week ago, more laughter ensued.I went to the office, returning only to hear the bell ring, and read the "highlights" as the kids were walking out. You know, the usual stuff.
You know it's sad when you call wasting an entire 45-minute period on reading the 3-minute bulletin "usual". But you know what's even more sad?
Breaking a phone.
