The Perfect Storm

Halloween is near.  There will be a full moon, and in my part of the world, barometric pressure will be dropping.  For my colleagues still in the teaching trenches, this absolutely constitutes the perfect storm.  Any one of those elements by itself is cause for concern, but this triad is guaranteed chaos, albeit controlled chaos.

Regardless of your school's policy regarding the wearing of costumes, you will undoubtably come across at least two Elsas, several zombies, more than a few witches, and a green Hulk making a run for the trash can to throw up because he's already found and broken in to his mother's stash of Halloween goodies.

You will deal with several irate parents that fall on one side or the other of the "For crying out loud, let kids be kids for once," and "Halloween is a pagan ceremony and should not be brought into our kids' classrooms."  You needn't bother responding that you do not make school policy because said parent is already making his or her way to the principal's office where they will continue ranting.  If your school is really special, you'll have parents with placards protesting in front of your school.

You will not be able to hand out even a token piece of Halloween candy, at least in our state, as it is prohibited.  You might choose to make due with new pencils for everyone, but this is itself a rather fruitless effort as 90% of your students will pull off the erasers on top and chew on them.

If by chance you get a moment to sit at your desk, an activity frowned on by most administrators, don't plan on staying there long, as every third student will come up behind you and yell "BOO!' In an attempt to scare you into taking an unscheduled restroom break.

You will survive.  Even if you have lunchroom duty.  Even if one of your little darlings tries to "trick" you by placing a tack in your chair (veteran teachers know that checking before sitting is a given).
Even when you're asked for the 1,342, 567th time, "Guess what I'm going to be for Halloween?"
You will even survive the pumpkin-painting contest (no knives allowed).

It might behoove you to place a witch hat and a broom in your coat closet, should you be fortunate enough to to have one.  Allow a few glimpses of said objects throughout the day, simply as a matter of self-defense.

Remember that after all is said and done, there is always the possibility of midnight margaritas at Friday's choir practice,

This entry is dedicated to my colleagues still in the teaching trenches.