Well. Harrumph! she snorted. Mrs. Scribe was very, very wrong!
OK, so she doesn't skim her red felt-tip over student-generated prose quite as often; but ah, so many other activities to which she must assign an arbitrary score...
An example, if you please: For about 5 months now, the Journalistas at Our Humble High School have been hobbled. Yes, hobbled...stuck to a stake like a steer at a rodeo half-time show. By great, thick, hunks of twisted cyber-hemp.
Translation? The Damn Computers have be acting up. Big Time. Since September. Things got so bad for a while that we thought OHHS would have to do without a 2009 yearbook.
Mrs. Scribe asked the Tech Guru for help. He said the problemas were nada...in other words, all in The Superior Scribbler's imagination. She begged the Assistant Principal in charge of the Tech Guru for help. She was told, "those machines are just a year old." The purveyor of that astute observation insinuated that Mrs. Scribe was getting on in years, and that perhaps in need of new bifocals.
Hey, wait a dern minute, there! Mrs. Scribe is a veritable Cherub herself! And only recently acquired bifocals, thankyouverymuch!
Dire circumstances called for determined action. Mrs. Scribe went all the way to the proverbial top...she appealed to Principal Man.
And dagnabbit if PM failed yet again to live up to his often belittled & much maligned reputation as a climber. The one who allegedly is using his tenure at OHHS as a stepping stone to Middle Management.
When faced with the prospect of the "public" face of his high school going Belly Up...
...Principal Man took action. In a rather decisive, direct & determined way. He ordered Tech Guy & Assistant Principal Lady & a few more of the usual suspects to fix things. Immediately, if not sooner.
Of course, once the Powers That Be actually focused on the problema that Mrs. Scribe had been calling to their attention for the past 5 months, Your Humble Scribe's cyber-community responded & started working in the manner to which we had all become accustomed in earlier school years.
Turns out Mrs. Scribe didn't need to acquire new bifocals, after all. Her hardware...not to mention her software...just needed a little TLC. Feel free to interpret the previous sentence in any manner you so choose.
The problema got fixed so fast that Mrs. Scribe wonders if Principal Man reads this blog...NOT!
Mrs. Scribe is now a Very Happy Camper. And she has Principal Man to thank for that. The Intrepid Scribe plans to get out her red felt-tip and pencil in a cease fire for the guy who takes on so much incoming flak.
A-Plus for you, Principal Man. Super Job!
Editor's Note: Another contribution to Mrs. Scribe's February entries in the Random Complexity Writing Challenge. 479 words.