WHY I TEACH-Part 3: 74 Computer Monitors and 0 Textbooks

“I have 74 computer monitors,” I said.

“Well, that’s good,” Mr. Myers replied. He sat stoically behind his massive oak desk.

“No, that isn’t good. I only need 24.”

He stared blankly at me.

“What am I supposed to do with the other 50 monitors?”

“You’ve got a large classroom, I’m sure you can find a place to put them,” Mr. Myers said with a smile.

“My classroom isn’t a storage room.”

“Well, we don’t have anywhere else to put them.” He picked up a pen and busied himself with a stack of papers.

I huffed quietly and left his office. “Mrs. Orian,” I said to his secretary, “How do I go about getting an electric stapler, pencil sharpener, and hole puncher?”

She laughed.

“I’m sorry, did I say something funny?”

“You’re wanting to get your group of kids an electric hole puncher?” She said the word your in a peculiarly vile sort of way.

“Um, yes?” I said or rather asked.

She looked up at me from her computer screen and shook her head. “You’ve got a $3,000 budget. You can spend it on anything you want.”

“Wait, what?” I thought of the empty classroom, vacant of all essential school supplies. “Can I buy textbooks?”

“No, textbook adoption was last school year.”

“But I don’t have any textbooks,” I replied.

“Oh, right, Mr. Joseph didn’t submit his requests in time,” she said casually.

“So can I order textbooks with my budget money?”

“No,” she replied flatly, “Textbook adoption isn’t for another three years. You can only order things from the office supply stores.” She handed me a piece of paper titled ‘Acceptable Office Supply Stores’. “Wait!” She snatched the paper back and typed something into her computer. After scribbling on the bottom of the sheet, she handed it back. “That’s your username and password for your account.”

“Thanks,” I muttered and left the office.

As I walked down the mostly vacant hallways, I turned toward the science wing. Stacked in the middle of the aisle were several large sturdy black tables; beautiful, albeit they were covered in graffiti and gum.

“Hello,” I called as I peered into the classroom.

A large balding man called back, “Hello!”

“I was wondering what you are going to do with these tables?” I asked as I gingerly walked into his classroom.

“Aren’t my new tables amazing? They’ve got power outlets!” He gestured over the sleek dark grey tables.

“They are pretty nice,” I admitted. “The tables in the hallway?”

“Garbage, I believe,” he replied.

“Any chance I can have them?”

He looked at me curiously. “I guess so.”

“Can you have them taken to 107B?”

He chuckled. “So you’re the new Mr. Joseph.”

“I guess,” I replied sheepishly. “Can you have them taken to my classroom?”

“Sure, no problem,” he said, shaking his head.

“Great!” I replied. “Thank you so much!” As I walked out of the classroom I had a thought. “I don’t suppose you got new chairs, too?”

“Oh yes!” he exclaimed. “And they are beautiful!”

“Can you send your old chairs my way?”

“Sure thing,” he called out.

I pushed the computer desks along the two side walls in preparation for the tables. My shoes stuck to the black grungy floor.

“Delivery,” a voice called out from the back door.

I turned to see four legs headed straight for me. I ducked out of the way.

The man set the table down with a thud.

“Thank you so much for bringing these to my classroom!” I exclaimed.

“Classroom?” the man questioned.

I cocked my head and looked at him quizzically. “Um, yes?”

“I thought this room was just for storage,” the man replied.

“No, I believe it’s always been a classroom.”

“These floors are disgraceful,” the man said as he surveyed the room. “I’m Atticus.” He extended his hand toward me.

I opened my mouth to state the obvious when he said, “Yes, like the guy in To Kill a Mockingbird.”

I closed my mouth and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Atticus.”

“I’ll get the rest of the tables and chairs for you,” he said as he turned to leave.

“Thank you, Atticus, I truly appreciate it.”

At the end of the day, I looked at the piles of monitors and stacks of tables glaring at me. I turned out the light and left through the back door.

“Didn’t you say you have a shelf in the hallway?” Stuart asked when I got home.

“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s tall and skinny.”

“Can’t you put the monitors there?”

“The two shelves are spaced too far apart,” I replied.

“Come on,” Stuart said as he grabbed a measuring tape from the drawer. “Let’s see what we can do.”

I smiled, oh how I loved that man.

“Do I need a mask?”

I looked sideways at him.

“The rotten food in the fridge?” he questioned.

“Oh, right. No, I got that cleaned out yesterday.”

"I've got this," Stuart said after taking several measurements. "I'm going to head to Home Depot. Why don't you and the kids work on clearing these off?"

I looked to my children and then to the boxes and boxes and boxes of crap and simply nodded. "Let's get to work, and thanks, my love. Turn right out of the parking lot."

We worked to bag and sort the boxes of computer junk. Several hours, and two amazing Stuart shelves later, the boxes were combined into plastic totes and all 50 of the useless monitors were neatly stacked on the hallway shelf.