I don’t work in the school I was in for over a year anymore. In fact, I don’t work in any school anymore. Therefore, I feel like it’s safe to share this story.
It’s all about the morning announcements… You probably knew that. Because of the title. I have got to learn to be more ambiguous.
Each school officially began with a strange tone that was played over the loud speakers throughout the school. When I was a kid, that sound was an actual bell. There are no more bells. I can only assume that at some point in the last 20 years or so, it was determined that the ringing of the bell was too loud and/or irritating for some students with sensitive ears.
Following that strange start-of-day tone, the school’s secretary would jump on the PA to greet everyone and share any potential announcements. Really, there weren’t many announcements. Really… it was rare that there was even a single announcement on any given school day.
I’m sure you’re reading all this and wondering, “Why is this worthy of a blog post?” It gets better… Please be patient.
This unnamed secretary at this unnamed school delivered her morning address in a very interesting way. I can only describe her manner as overly perky and sassy. “Good morning teachers and students! It is now time to start our day!” If it had been me delivering morning announcements at 7:45 a.m., there would have been no exclamation points.
That’s not true… There would have been exclamation points. And possibly some strange attempts at vocal impressions.
What always struck me as odd is that this secretary always seemed so excited to go through her morning speech, but her attitude toward me whenever I interacted with her was… intimidating at best. I don’t want to say she was unpleasant. I don’t even want to imply that. Because I don’t want someone who knows me and knows who I’m talking about to let it get back to her. Because I don’t want her to hunt me down to give me a piece of her mind.
It’s entirely possible she didn’t like me. Whenever I had to ask her a question, it felt like I was really bothering her and it took away from her entire day to have to deal with whatever question I was asking. But I also saw that in her interactions with other people, too. I really don’t think it was just me.
But I’d swear, to hear her during the morning announcements and then deal with her 15 minutes later, one would think it was two different people.
Her excitement, of course, became more pronounced as the week wore on. Because, I assume, we were getting closer to the weekend. By the end of the week, she was wrapping up her routine with, “And I hope every one of you has a happy, happy, happy FRIIIIDAAAAAY!” Wednesday was always hump day… Thursday was always Friday eve… It was madness.
Am I complaining about the personality she injected into her two minutes over the public address? Of course not. There are only so many ways you can spice up the Pledge of Allegiance and the daily moment of silence. I think I’m just wishing she could have injected some of that personality into the rest of our seven hour day at school.
But who am I to talk? I have the personality of a brick. Most of the teachers at that school probably thought I was selectively mute.