'Twas the day before Christmas break.

And all through the school, the lights were flicking on and off BECAUSE WE LOST POWER FOR MOST OF THE DAY.

I'm certainly not going to rhyme for all of this.

It's no surprise that I was bitter to have had school yesterday. The morning started out okay--I figured the day might go by fast enough. But five minutes before the first bell, when I was in the middle of an email, the power died. Szoom. Kids in the hall screamed and started running into each other and lockers--on purpose--as a back-up generator left some light in the hallway. I couldn't see anything in my room, since it was dark outside still. But I felt my way to the hallway. Found some teachers, joked about how messed up it was (this has never happened before!) and said a little prayer that maybe we'd all just get to go home early.

5 minutes later, the lights came back up. 2 minutes later, they went back down.

First hour came in. I, of course, had scheduled a computer lab day for the entire 3 of my freshman classes. And because I'm a shit teacher and didn't anticipate half of the town losing power, I did not have a back-up plan. So, we sat in the dark. I told kids to get out their cell phones for the light. I let them text. I gave them the candy canes I'd brought (none of the gross mint ones, of course), instructed them not to suck them into a point and stab people with them, and asked who wanted to play a game, who wanted to color. Some kids grabbed some crayons. Six kids formed a circle and we played Trivial Pursuit. Other kids just sat in a circle and texted everybody they could, updating us with more information: half the town is out! ... My house isn't out! ... None of the schools have power! ... My friend said we were getting out early! ... The sinks in the bathroom aren't even working!

And every once in awhile an administrator or secretary walked by with an update: we think it'll be on in ten minutes. Keep the kids here until we figure out what's going on. I took the information, gave it to the kids: okay, everyone, listen up. Looks like we've officially entered survivor mode. So we're gonna have to hurry up and vote about which one of us we're going to eat first. (To which kids volunteered.) And we kept doing nothing, I kept doing damage control. And an hour later the lights came up.

And an administrator walked by and said keep them until 9:30. So I had to deal with first hour, my most dysfunctional hour, for another solid 45 minutes. And I had to get them to do work. And I couldn't get on my computer, because one of the computers at the school had already fried due to a power surge, and I certainly couldn't go into the computer lab. So I made it an independent reading day for their independent reading books. And let me tell you: trying to get a room of 14-year-olds to shut the fuck up after an hour of running around in the dark is near-impossible. It was damage control babysitting for the next half an hour. It was please be quiet every 2 minutes, if not more. It was a kid throwing his book across the room when the power went out again (you could hear the entire school cheer when it happened) and then complain and complain when I asked him to retrieve it, three seconds later, when the power came back on (you could hear the entire school whine when it happened).

It was the longest first hour of my life. It felt ready to go home right after. But there were 5 hours of the day left.

In between classes, I spoke with a teacher who said that they'd have to wait to cancel school until all of the elementary busses had arrived at the other school. He said that the cooks weren't able to turn on the ovens in the kitchen--how would we feed everybody?--and this conversation gave me some hope.

Then, in 2nd hour, a kid said something about having to wait until 12:00 to cancel school, and that gave me hope. And that hour, the lights went out twice--and came back on. You could hear the entire school cheer at the dark and groan about the light. In my room, when we lost light, kids jumped out of their chairs and started touching each other in any way possible. Headlocks, punches to the upper arm, kicking in the shins.

3rd hour, my prep, and I still couldn't turn on my computer. But I did get some papers graded. 4th hour, my seniors, I'd essentially lost all hope. And I couldn't even go forward with my plans for that class, because the students had to print off papers to hand in to me. (Ah, yes, because none of the printers in the three computer labs were working yesterday and the computer lady was nowhere to be found. Nor was the student network working, so kids weren't even able to save their work to the server.) One, gracious group, had their work done. They'd printed from home. (They will be successful in college.) They performed their Canterbury Tales skit--"The Reeve's Tale"--and used my Curious George stuffed animal as the baby in the crib. When the characters in the skit had sex with the daughters, they pretended to pounce on each other and disappeared behind the giant science island in front of the room. It was fantastic. In the middle of their skit, they turned off the lights for effect, and I'd assumed we'd lost power again and said, keep going! and the entire class laughed at me. No, we turned out the lights on purpose, Ms. Prokott. And then we played Guesstures.

And we all bitched about how ridiculous it was to stay at school, what a waste of the day, because no classes had done anything but what I was doing, that half of the rooms still didn't have power. And the lunch ladies fed the kids cold lunches. And midway through 4th hour, my last hope died when the principal said everything was up and running over the finally-working intercom. I could even turn my computer back on. And I let the seniors leave for lunch 3 minutes early, even though some snuck out beforehand, I'm sure. At least three of them thanked me for the candy canes.

But my favorite part of that hour was when one of the kids, so randomly, said in all seriousness: no you guys, really though--you know what's a really good rap group? Bone Thugs 'n Harmony.

I laughed out loud for a good five minutes. See you at the crossroads, crossroads, crossroads.

Fifth hour, I think I could've gone to the computer lab. But, given that the computers only half work on a regular day when we haven't lost power 14 times, I didn't take the chance. Plus, how impossibly annoying when one class gets ahead of the others, even for a day. So we voted to have a reading day or to play Guesstures, and they voted for the game and screamed the entire time, and I ended the day with a massive headache and then drove home to Albertville behind people who decided to drive 40 miles an hour even though the snow had barely started.

Ah, Merry Christmas. Three students gave me gifts, which was remarkably sweet. I don't even quite know these students yet. We're only three weeks into the trimester; but a Special Education kid, J, stopped by after school late last week and plucked a small bag onto my desk and walked away. Thank you! You didn't have to! I called to him on his way out. It was a giant coffee mug and two handmade potholders, which I love. A little card, just his name signed. You know his mom was the one doing it all, but still.

And then, on Monday, he did the same thing: plopped a little bag on my desk. You already gave me something! I said. He said, I know, and walked out. This time, an entire bag of candy. (Did I eat it all at once? Yes, yes I did.) A girl, the one who I worry has problems at home and who wrote her entire essay about kissing her boyfriend (in detail) and who talks about sex more than necessary, laid a poorly wrapped gift in front of me. Thank you so much! I said, as she walked away. Later, I opened a picture frame and a little bottle of soap.

And yesterday, at the end of the hour, another girl (I'd had her sister as a senior) handed me a card that said Mrs. Prokott and then just walked away from me as I was saying thank you! It was a gift card to a local coffee shop--but she hadn't written anything on the card. Just a blank card.

Students are so bizzare. And then they just walk away.