A Mouse Story (Part I)

            I just finished my third year of teaching this month.  It feels good to have three years under my belt.  I have learned a lot about pedagogy, myself, and most importantly, teenagers.  I spent my first two and a half years teaching in one of seventeen mobile units behind the school.  The high school where I work has a growing population and is currently under major construction to add more classrooms.  One building was complete in January, so this meant that I would be able to move from my mobile unit to the main building – but not the new building.  I was ecstatic!  I almost always have class sizes of thirty students or more and that mobile unit can feel tiny at times.  Worse than that, the AC had not been working in my unit since August.  I was ready to move!

            Immediately after my principal told me that we would be moving, I was on my way to scout out the best room on the font hall.  There were two “must have” items in my search:

1.                      An immaculately clean whiteboard because I am terrified of ugly smudgy boards.  When I was a child I was always the chalkboard cleaner/inspector – not because I loved my teacher, but because I loved clean boards.  I do believe that if we had chalkboards today I never would have entered the teaching profession.

2.                      A room without mice.  This may sound strange, but mice rule the school.  They have been living there for years and have no plans of leaving.  They know the teachers who will feed them and they do not fear those who loathe them.

So I embarked on my quest for my room.   I was not looking for the perfect room, just a room without mice and with a quality whiteboard.  I figured that this was not too much to ask.   As I meandered down the front hall, I looked in rooms to find the best whiteboard.  I had narrowed it down to two.  Now it was time to interview those teachers.  I needed to know about the last time they had a mouse spotting in their room.  I actually interrogated the teachers.  I questioned them, “Have you ever seen a mouse?  When?  Have you seen the evidence of a mouse in the form of chewed paper or mouse droppings?  Do you allow students to eat in this classroom?  Do you eat in the classroom?  Do you store food in the classroom?...”  and the questions continued.  I think that I just about drove the teachers crazy, but I finally decided on room 102.  I like that number.  It has a nice location.  Close to the bathrooms, counseling office, and main office.  I was delighted with my well-researched decision and I was confident that room 102 would be near perfect.  

Weeks later the day of the move had finally arrived.  I was ecstatic.  I love unpacking and making a place all my own.  We moved during first semester testing, so I did not have students in my classroom after 1:00.  I relished this opportunity because it gave me valuable time to do all my moving and decorating.  I had my room ready to go just a few hours after the movers dropped off my boxes.  I was ready to teach.  I could not wait for the first day of the new semester.  

On one exam day, I was not giving an exam.  I had the entire day to do planning for the next semester.  I was delighted.  I walked into my classroom early that morning, set my coffee on my new desk and put my purse in my huge new bookshelf.  It was nice to be in the school and not secluded in a trailer behind the building.  I started working on my computer when I saw something across the room out of the corner of my eye.  The school was silent because all the students were testing.  No one was in the room except me… or so I thought.  I stood up and walked across the room.  I thought , “I couldn’t be.  No way.”  But it WAS.  It was my worst nightmare!  That hideous grayish-brownish rodent was running along the wall of the classroom.  I was screaming internally as the mouse dashed out the door.  I followed him as he galloped down the front hall.  Just before he got to the end of the hall, he jumped inside a locker and disappeared.  IT WAS my worst nightmare!

I scurried as quickly as possible to the front office to let them know of the tragedy.  They told me that they would send “sticky pads.”  I knew that was a joke.  Sometimes sticky pads work, but they are not as effective as the old fashioned mouse trap.  What’s worse is that the mice are still alive on the sticky pads when you catch them and they make horrible noises as they slowly dehydrate or starve to death.

I knew that it was time to call reinforcements.  I needed some backup.  I called Lisa, my stepmother, and told her in a frantic tone that she had to stop whatever she was doing that day,  buy some mouse traps and peanut butter, and come to the school as fast as possible.  She attempted to reassure me with calming and rational words, but all her efforts were wasted.   I quickly hung up the phone and stood like a statue.  I was trying to hear anything at all because I thought that I heard something strange while I was on the phone.  I knew that I was on-edge, but I could swear that I heard something in my purse.  I heard something creaking in that oversized bookshelf.  I must be losing my mind.  Even though I thought that I was crazy, I grabbed my purse and threw it on the ground… and a mouse ran out!  That varmint ran from my purse into the heater!  At that point, I ran out of the classroom and into the hall and fell on the ground.  I was absolutely freaking out.  I started crying when Mia, a colleague and former teacher, came to my rescue.  She despises mice as much as I do, so it helped to have her empathize with me.

Soon after, another teacher was in the hall, Coach Lohr.  He came in chuckling and asked what happened.  I told him between sobs and pointed to my purse.  He cleaned out my bag for me and at the bottom he found my lunch.  Eaten.  By a mouse. 

Later, my favorite custodian came to help.  He is humorous and thinks that my hatred of mice is funny.  He brought two sticky pads and put them on both sides of the bookshelf.  Just as he was getting the second pad straight, another mouse ran over the first pad.  I started jumping up and down and I screamed at the custodian.  The custodian leapt up and shoved the bookshelf against the wall, trying to crush the varmint.  No luck.  The mouse ran up in the heater just like the first one.  Now they were off to make babies.  I was sure of it.

Finally, my stepmom arrived.  She brought the big guns - real traps and peanut butter.  We set up the traps, I grabbed most of my personal belonging, and I left the room.  I did not want to be in that room when the rodents ventured out and had their spinal cord snapped in half.  

About an hour later, I realized that I left one book in my classroom.  I entered cautiously and I could see the flipped trap and dead tail sticking out from across the room.  Yes!  First dead mouse!  I called the custodian and he took the mouse out of the room.

That afternoon, I arrived at home quite disturbed.  I felt dirty and violated by nasty rodents.  I put my purse in the washing machine and I sanitized all my books and notebooks that were in the bag.  Then I took a long shower.  That night I dreamed of mice.  It was horrifying.  

The next morning, I was anxious as I arrived to school.  I was hopeful that I would have a few more dead ones in my traps.  When I opened my door, I was delighted to find two more dead mice.  Victory was mine!  At least for the moment.  Little did I know that this war would continue for the rest of the semester.

To be continued…