Aliens tour Westlake High School

In education news this week, aliens from the planet Xalminator landed in Westlake, Indiana, at the forty-yard-line on the fighting Wolves’ football field. On their tour, the aliens remarked on the school’s foreign design and inhabitants. 

 “This startling system of bells ringing at 50-minute intervals, followed by another ring 5 minutes after each 50-minute bell appears to randomly move the students through a series of rooms, hallways, and doorways at an alarming rate,” Citizen Xorotec noted. “I see no intellectual logic for such behavior, since this is a school of learning, and learning cannot be reasonably segmented in such an arbitrary way.”

Other citizens, as they called themselves, remarked on the unhealthy mold formations growing on the ceilings and in corners of many areas of the school, including the cafeteria, where one citizen opened the lid on a pot of turkey tetrazzini and fainted.

A group of eight Xalminatorians banded together to brave the nether regions of the computer lab rooms, where they giggled over the antiquated technology.

“My great-granny once talked about how her people discovered similar such apparatuses in the failed project corner of the children’s workshop building,” said Citizen Xantiatica.

Another set of the aliens was intrigued by the glassed-in area near the front doors, which contained two women dressed better than the teachers in the building, an overweight man in polyester slacks whose cologne was penetrating the glass walls, another overweight man in a white polo shirt with a grease stain, and two people of undetermined sex partitioned off in their own area away from all other signs of life.

Citizen Xorotec pondered, “I suppose it could be the entertainment area, like in what humanoids call a zoo. The rest of the inhabitants of the building can perhaps observe the activity inside this sound and smell-proof glass cell.” The cologne-drenched overweight man leaned against a counter, talking nonstop to one of the women whose eyes were glazed over like a Dunkin donut. “It does not, however, appear that interesting to me.”

“Those are the secretaries, the principal, the athletic director, and the counselors,” math teacher Paul Long explained.

A quick tour of the teacher’s lounge prompted citizens to call in their medical advisor, as they feared two of the inhabitants needed blood transfusions, defibrillation, or both. Citizen Med-Xanas could not find a pulse for reading teacher Sherry Ingram, though she proceeded to have an in-depth conversation with him about the humorous devices in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, a text apparently prized on a plethora of planets.

“Apparently these teachers go into some sort of intellectual hibernation mode between the hours of 8 and 3:30 p.m., when they manage to separate their thinking capacities from their physical bodies,” said Citizen Med-Xanas. “It is perhaps a learned behavior brought on by irrationally-grouped segments of students consistently appearing inside their rooms, followed by less break time than a Zaporatic intern has on her expanded-duty triangulation rounds.”

The entire group of aliens exploded into laughter, and then an unnamed one said, “Little inside humor there. Sorry.”

Toward the end of their tour, the aliens were pleasantly surprised by a visit from the school superintendent Mark Easton, whose hair, one citizen snorted, “was slicker than the surface of a Rondo-217 model air-extenuator.”

Easton said of his school, “We welcome your input into our vertically-aligned school curriculum implemented with essential elements, as we work toward standardizing best practices and common core state standards.”

 The aliens had no response but quickly left the building, even though they had been scheduled to observe an after-school faculty meeting, in which the principal was planning on dividing teachers from different departments into pairs and having them perform skits on the essential elements.

 Before departing, Citizen Xantiatica said, “We will alert the intergalactic police that a Udabeckian infiltrator is masquerading as your superintendent. Unfortunately, the Udabeckians are noted for holding off entire armies with the mere stench of their manurish edu-speak. Good luck!”



Filed under Teaching Whore Press

9 responses to “Aliens tour Westlake High School

  1. I’ve have seen the future, and it is us! Oh! Now I get it!

  2. Naveeka

    why don’t you post some pix as well for people like me who don’t live in that part of the world 🙂

  3. I’m new to your blog and am not a teacher and our high school office has one person visible there but you have to actually go in the doors and turn to the right before getting there – but it is a glassed view -lol. She is always changing her hair color from blonde to red or vice versa – trying to look younger than she is. I think I have only seen the principal twice in the past four years (my daughter is a senior this year) and there have been at least that many or more changes of vice principals in that length of time, so I’ve not met any of them. The guidance counselors are housed in a different area of the school. I do know that the security guard or policeman has an office in the main office but he’s usually not there either. I enjoyed the posting though – I think you have a writer in you somewhere – seems to be begging to come out – thanks for sharing – E 🙂

    Elysabeth Eldering
    Author of the Junior Geography Detective Squad, 50-state, mystery, trivia series

    Where will the adventure take you next?

    JGDS blog
    JGDS website

  4. Miss Crabtree

    A recent incursion by distant alien visitors (DAV) to a school in our district elicited many comments about the multitudes of ancient weaponry on display in the glass cases in the school lobby. A student was questioned about the strange objects in the hands of the tiny figures that decorated each weapon. “Oh, that stuff? That’s a golf club; that’s a baseball bat; that’s a basketball,” explained Sammy Baker, before he lumbered off to health class.

    Examination of the teacher workroom elicited gaffaws. The visitors scoffed at the low level of technology used by supposedly skilled workers in education. “Why, on our planet, our teachers have nothing but the best–cutting-edge technology always kept in perfect working order. This stuff should be exiled to Blogzandia, the scrapheap of the universe.”

    Rumors that one assistant superintendent had been beamed up into the aliens’ transporter cannot be corroborated. However, a certain Dr. Smithers has been mysteriously absent from several important meetings since late last week, much to the relief of his staff. Smithers, also referred to “fondly” as Mr. Micro (short for Mr. Micromanagement) has become the bane of district office staff, principals, and teachers for his constant interference in mundane affairs and daily decision-making. “Chee-rist! You can’t even switch a kid’s math schedule without runnin’ it up the chain to Dr. S.!”

  5. Roxy

    Your comment about the front office attire is so true at our school too! It’s like War of the Wardrobes. I’ve resorted to weary fairy-like, elfish outfits. It makes me believe there’ll be a bit of magic or serendipity in class.

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