To Mabel, In Explanation

This morning we had our annual 9-11 tribute in front of the school.
Veterans came, we recited the Pledge of Allegiance, the choir sang.
It was a nice little ceremony. I saw my buddy Mabel for the first
time in a long time. And school's almost over already, you know!

Mabel asked me to save her a seat at the faculty meeting after
school. Au contraire, Mabel. My presence has been requested
across town at the other faculty meeting. Mabel did not want to
believe it. So I have a little poem for her:

Please excuse me, faithful Mabel,
Sorry that I wasn't able
To procure a library table
For the two of us, to enable
A gossip session worthy of cable.

Yes. We two are quite amusing. We deserve our own comedy
show. Unfortunately, we are the only two people who think so.

I suppose Mabel realized the truth when there was no seat in
the library awaiting her after bus duty. Poor Mabel. This is the
least we have been able to communicate in the last 9 years.
Yes, Mabel, we're getting old. We're not spring chickens any
more. We're just chickens. Or in my case, a big chicken with
a pink flamingo head. Given to me by Mabel.

I don't know about your meeting, Mabel, but ours was over by
4:05. That's a new record. And the person supposed to be selling
tickets to the game sat right next to me. I guess it was self-serve
night at the admission gate. I don't know anybody else who could
have taken over. Tomorrow it is my turn as the gatekeeper. I will
take some papers to grade. I hate down time.

Now I must go make up a quiz for my HS math class. I promised
them one, you see...and Hillbilly Mom is not one to break promises
to her students.

Disclaimer: contrary to popular opinion, Mabel is not now, and
never has been, a figment of my imagination. She is a real live
breathing human being. She is not my alter ego, a la Fight Club,
or Secret Window. Oops! Sorry for the spoiler if you haven't
seen those movies. I can write what I want about Mabel, because
she does not have a blog, and will not leave a comment. She can
only chastise me privately through email, which I can choose not
to open. Oh, sure, she can send her students to sing "Happy Pi
Day" to me on March 14, but that's a long way off, and they can't
bring those delicious Little Debbie Oatmeal Pies this year, because
of that healthy schools act or some such thing that has taken away
our snack bar and all soda from grades K-8.

See what teaching does to you? It makes you act like the kids.