Here is the story of the Hall Monitors.
One was a boy who, aside from this single badge of authority, had only excess acne to show for his life. But should you step into the hall from a classroom, he would instantly arise from his official, tiny desk with its single pencil and clipboard.
I was new and relatively unknown in this school. He immediately asked, "What is your name?"
I replied, "Di'angelo Nostromos"., remembering some dude from some book that was being discussed in my history class. He asked me to spell it, which I did, "Di'angelo Nostromos".
What was the teacher's name?
"Mr. Richter." I said. To this I noted a different body language.
"Richter, -- History -- Medieval to Renaissance?"
"That's right." I replied.
"OK, here." He then gave me a Hall Pass. Some piece of paper that endowed me with permissions to and from the Boy's Restroom.
"Thanks, I said." I then walked on toward the restroom, inwardly wondering if I should have given him such phony answers. Instead, the very next day that I had to use the restroom, from a different teacher's room, I met a girl monitor instead.
She asked curtly, "You're that Dante -- from North Fork?"
"Yes... uh, of Mrs. Sweenie's class."
"No.1 or No.2?" she asked with thick glasses making her ponderous presence seem all the more serious.
"I said, "I'm not sure, yet."
She was a little annoyed. "Well, make up your mind."
"OK, then, No. 1." I huffed, now getting in a hurry.
Then she hurriedly scrawled something on her clipboard. As she scribbled her portly body jiggled. She then ripped off a small slip of paper and gave it too me. "It's good for 2 minutes."
I decided to go No. 2. About 15 minutes later, in the way back to class I was immediately accosted by the chubby hall monitor girl again.
"Time expired! Time expired." she repeated like a broken parrot.
"Well," I said, handing her my little slip of paper, "When you gotta go, you just gotta go."
She looked at me narrowly, "That sounds like a bunch of bull. I'm reporting you."
One was a boy who, aside from this single badge of authority, had only excess acne to show for his life. But should you step into the hall from a classroom, he would instantly arise from his official, tiny desk with its single pencil and clipboard.
I was new and relatively unknown in this school. He immediately asked, "What is your name?"
I replied, "Di'angelo Nostromos"., remembering some dude from some book that was being discussed in my history class. He asked me to spell it, which I did, "Di'angelo Nostromos".
"Mr. Richter." I said. To this I noted a different body language.
"Richter, -- History -- Medieval to Renaissance?"
"That's right." I replied.
"OK, here." He then gave me a Hall Pass. Some piece of paper that endowed me with permissions to and from the Boy's Restroom.
"Thanks, I said." I then walked on toward the restroom, inwardly wondering if I should have given him such phony answers. Instead, the very next day that I had to use the restroom, from a different teacher's room, I met a girl monitor instead.
She asked curtly, "You're that Dante -- from North Fork?"
"Yes... uh, of Mrs. Sweenie's class."
"No.1 or No.2?" she asked with thick glasses making her ponderous presence seem all the more serious.
"I said, "I'm not sure, yet."
She was a little annoyed. "Well, make up your mind."
"OK, then, No. 1." I huffed, now getting in a hurry.
Then she hurriedly scrawled something on her clipboard. As she scribbled her portly body jiggled. She then ripped off a small slip of paper and gave it too me. "It's good for 2 minutes."
I decided to go No. 2. About 15 minutes later, in the way back to class I was immediately accosted by the chubby hall monitor girl again.
"Time expired! Time expired." she repeated like a broken parrot.
"Well," I said, handing her my little slip of paper, "When you gotta go, you just gotta go."
She looked at me narrowly, "That sounds like a bunch of bull. I'm reporting you."
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