Another Day, Another Trip to the Principal’s Office
This morning, The Teenager made a frantic call to me from her Spanish classroom; we had a Hotdog emergency.
Hotdog is our codeword for immediate extraction from an unpleasant situation and can be used in one of the following cases:
-She can’t think of a polite way to escape from a friend’s house and wants me to order her home, thus reducing the possibility of hurting a friend’s feelings.
-She’s in a dangerous or uncomfortable situation which could include-but is not limited to- drugs, alcohol, peer pressure or chainsaw weilding homicidal maniacs.
-She in imminent danger of a Period Catastrophe.
I don’t suppose that I have to tell you there were no homicidal maniacs in Spanish class, today, chainsaw weilding or not.
It was, indeed, a Period Catastrophe: her Spanish teacher refused to allow her to go to the bathroom and she was loathe to explain her predicament to him.
As I was instructing her to hand the phone to the teacher, I heard him in the background, ordering her to get off the phone which; I completely understand given the fact that using the phone during class is against school policy, and she hung up before I could explain her situation to the teacher.
A Hotdog Extraction Plan was put into action and the situation was cleared up but, not before Hugh and I had to spend half an hour in the Principal’s office, explaining what had occurred and then another fifteen minutes wishing for the earth to swallow us whole as we listened to the Principal describe some techniques for dealing with menstruating teenagers to the poor clueless Spanish teacher who was, no doubt, wishing he had his own codeword for immediate extraction from an unpleasant situation.
Good times, people. Good times.