Right now the messy desk is the bane of my existence. Not my desk (though it’s no picnic in the park), their desks. No, not their desks, everything that falls out of and off of their desks. My days are filled with this maneuever: stoop, grumble, grab, replace. Sometimes the grumble goes after the grab. Pencils, pens, pieces of paper, markers, crayons, books…it’s a never-ending deluge of detritus. I’m delirious wid dis.
So, that’s simple, you say. Just whip them into organizational shape, you say. Everything in its place. Folders on the left, books on the right, markers in their box slid in between the piles. Confiscate their crayons. One pen per peon. Crack down. Random raids. I’ve tried that. I try it every month. I even made a movie, “Your Desk and You.” They laugh and then go back to dropping stuff.
Then you say, make them clean it up. They can stoop without a grunt or groan. They’re still made out of rubber. I know, but I’ve tried. I’ve tried before recess, before lunch, before going home. “I still see a marker on the ground!” It gets old….months ago.
How about this? No more desks. No more private desks. A government takeover (uh oh, I can hear the frantic scribbling of petitions now…empowered citizenry can be a tyrant’s buzz kill). Journals in this bin. Notebooks in that one. You need a pen? I’ll pass out pens. Need a book? Here’s your ration card. Go wait in line for “book.” If you’re lucky, “two book.”
Drop a pencil?