On the left is a picture of the hall pass in my classroom. It is four months old. On the right is a new one. That is what the old one looked like four months ago.
How did this poor little bit of laminated plastic get so mangy? Was it dragged through a radioactive sewer full of piranhas shooting lasers?
No. It was taken by 16- and 17-year-olds to go to bathrooms in the same hallway as my class. That’s it. All that destruction and decay resulted when this pass escorted teenagers to the potty.
There’s some hair stuck to the bottom.
The next time a student complains that I don’t respect them enough as mature young adults, I’ll show them this picture.
Tomorrow is the last day of the semester. After class, I will destroy the old pass by soaking it in bleach, incinerating it in a furnace, and burying it in a lead box on Mars.
I’m curious to see how long before the new pass also looks like a ragged refugee from some dystopian novel about hall passes.