There is no way that high school administrators make enough money for what they do. And, truth be told, I probably have no actual idea of what all our administrators REALLY do all day, but I know they more than earn their money.
I'm hoping our new assistant principal is working on a book. She graduated from our school, worked as a teacher there for many years, and now is an assistant principal. She keeps me laughing with the occasional anecdote that she can share.
Our principal is a large, burly, teddy-bear sort of guy that the students adore but don't cross. Today he added a new skill to his resume - possum catcher. My classroom is on the first floor and on the front of the building which faces our football practice field. My first block came in all excited and wanted to know if I'd seen the possum on the field. Of course I hadn't and they called me over to the window to look. Sure enough, there was a hungry little possum wandering in small circles in the fenced in practice field. He appeared to be eating grubs or bugs out of the grass. (This is again, another random internet possum in the photo.)
We watched him for a few minutes as he continued making his little circles, never really going anywhere. They're a good class, though, and we finally settled back into Act 3 of Julius Caesar. It wasn't too long before I saw our principal and a SWAT team of custodians head out there. He had a large green plastic trash can and put it over the possum. I couldn't figure out what the point of that was unless they were going to slide something under it and then move him. But then he pushed the can over and out came the possum again, moving in circles.
He picked up the trash can and tried to encourage the possum to go inside. Possum was not interested. Possum backed up. After a few minutes of this, a helpful PE student walked over with a tennis racket and nudged the possum into the can. Mission accomplished, they set the can at the edge of the parking lot where I assume the plan was to take him down near the river and release him (our school is no more than five minutes from the Red River).
We settled back into Caesar. And then the rains came. It rained and thundered for an hour before somebody decided the possum might drown in that can. I looked out the window and saw a custodian walk out there with an umbrella and move Mr. Possum under the breezeway.
I don't know what ever happened to him. By the end of the day the can, and the possum, were gone.
I never had a chance to ask about him; the next time I saw our assistant principal she was headed off to deal with some kids who had decided to wear Swine Flu protective masks to school as a prank, thereby causing a panic among some of their classmates who had flooded the office to check out and go home in order to avoid the flu.
Like I said, I could never be an administrator. I'll just stay in my room and teach Julius Caesar until the day I retire!