That's what you get for letting people wait

Our teacher was late. How could she possible dare to delay the education of thirtysomething young enquiring minds, thirsting for their daily dose of knowledge in order to one day lead the world into a golden age of perfectly spoken Latin. This was inexcusable. We had to do something to teach her. So as not to allow her to force her wacky timetable onto us, we decided that we would try and turn the tables, and have her wait instead. To this end, we closed the door, put a Table and a dustbin behind it in a way that the handle could not be pushed down any more, and waited for her delayed arrival. After what seemed like several million hyperfine-structure transitions of your ordinary caesium atom, she finally arrived and found she wasn't able to enter her classroom. Through the door she yelled at us, but we wouldn't let her in. Since we were all in the class room and only she was not, we thought she couldn't note us down for missing lessons.

Now, even though the good lady was a little slow and hardly motivated, our swift and dauntless action had clearly challenged her. She decided to once again turn the tables and lock us in while she would go and fetch the headmaster. Only problem was, that the good man was not in his office. So while she was roaming the floors looking for him, we decided to make as much of a ruckus as humanly possible. We threw chairs against the wall, screaming manically, behaving like some real psychopaths actually. By chance it was the headmaster who heard us, and opened up the door to see what all the fuzz was about. We explained to him, that our teacher had said she wasn't in the mood today, had locked us up, and left us alone for the rest of the hour. It was only after one of us had had a panic attack, being afraid of closed rooms, and another one needed a wee, that we had taken to this drastic behaviour he had overheard.

The good headmaster let us free, and told us we could spend the rest of the hour outside. On our way down, we came past our teacher on the stairs, still searching for the headmaster. We waved at her cheerily, and I don't think she really recognized who we were. Behind us however, we could hear the voice of the headmaster. “Ah yes, Misses ******, I think we need to talk.”
( BringYourOwnParachute Meet me here on, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 16:46, Reply)