One hundred and one dalmatians

Forgot to mention that I met my junior class for the first time yesterday and they seem like a good group–the other AP teachers, who’ve taught most of these folks in tenth grade, assure me that they are indeed a good group.  Class ran smoothly–no trouble at all getting into a fairly sparky discussion about one of the summer reading books.  But at some point during class, my pen leaked–I’m not sure when exactly, but suddenly I noticed a spattering of black ink spots on the tabletop in front of me…and smears of ink on my arm…and more spots on the chair…and on the side of the teacher’s desk at the front of the room–so I think I must have been gesticulating with the busted pen and flinging droplets of ink everywhere.  The students either didn’t notice or very politely pretended not to.  I was really embarrassed, though: this isn’t even my classroom, so I basically went into someone else’s classroom, threw ink around, tried to wipe it up with a Kleenex (good luck with that) and ran away to my next class.  Excellent.  I did see and apologize to one of the two teachers resident in the room, though not the one whose desk got spattered.

Somehow, none of it seems to have ended up on my clothing, though I still have faint smears on my arm.


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