Projector Blues

Nearly every day, I marvel at home I am still alive. I am one of the most clumsy people that I know. Today, I did some very foolish that wasted learning time and endangered my students and myself.

It all started with a twelve inch by twelve inch sheet of glass that was given to me by a fellow teacher. One could write on it with dry erase markers rather than directly on overhead transparencies--it is easier to erase, you see.

Because transparency technology is really outdated, I use it only when my school's curriculum requires it. Today was one of those days. I used the projector and the glass in the morning and left it where it was sitting until it was time to rotate classes for our respective departmentalized subjects. In my hurry to move the projector in time for the incoming class, I completely forgot about the glass. As I lifted the projector into the air, the glass slid off and headed towards the ground, almost in slow motion. Out of sheer reflex, I stuck my foot out to 'break' its fall--a rather painful habit that evolved from my days of playing soccer. The very corner of the glass penetrated my skin before falling to the floor in a million pieces.

My first concern was with the broken glass. I ordered my students to stay back as I surveyed the damage. It was then that I noticed my foot. Though the gash was only about two inches wide, it was extremely deep. Blood was just gushing. Soon, my tights were saturated and my blood was literally pooling on the floor. The children looked on in horror, each asking me what they should do. Trying to clear my head, I asked one of them to ring the office and ask them to send down a janitor to clean up the blood and the glass. Then I sent one of my students to go and get a fellow teacher. She stepped into the classroom, took one look at the pool of blood and the stunned children around me and ordered everyone to their seats. Meanwhile, I thought it best to go to the office and out of the line of sight of my kids. When I arrived in the office, the school secretary had a very worried expression on her face--especially after she saw that my tights were literally saturated with blood. The school nurse was nowhere to be found so I waited in the office with my foot up as people who passed by gathered to see me bleed. Finally, the nurse arrived. She took one look at it and told me that I needed to go get stitches. And so, the school's security officer was commissioned to take me to a town an hour away for treatment. (I couldn't go to the clinic across the street because I am not Lakota). Lamenting the loss of learning time, I gave my the librarian my lesson plans and asked her to teach my class for me. As a former TFA corps member and Middle School Teacher of the year last year, I knew I could trust her. After I gave her some parting words of advice, I hobbled towards the exit.

My trip to the clinic was uneventful. However, I was a teeny-weeny bit annoyed by the fact that one of the staff workers kept commenting on how young I was to be a teacher. I told her I was nearly 23, but this didn't seem to impress her...

The doctor came to treat me soon after I arrived. It did not take long and only required two stitches (it was deep, not wide). I got a bit nauseous when he lifted up my skin with a needle in order to numb it. Other than that, I was a trooper.

The entire trip to took about three hours. I got back just in time to show my children that I was okay. Many of them looked genuinely concerned. In fact, when I stepped back into my classroom, a gaggle of girls rushed up to me and threw their arms around me. It was precious.

I ran into M, who is not in my homeroom, in the hallway. She shouted, "Miss Prenzill!! You're back! Are you okay?!" As I began to assure her that I was just fine, she cut in, "Can I borrow 50 cents?" When I shot her a look, she beamed up at me and said, "Josh!" You got to love little M.

Yours truly,

B