balderdash (boll-der-dash) noun
nonsense or exaggeration. If your friend says, "I can run a mile in under three and a half minutes," you should respond, "Balderdash!" (since you know full well that Hicham El Guerrouj of Morocco ran the fastest mile ever--just over three minutes and 43 seconds--in Rome on July 7, 1999). See also codswallop, hogwash, and malarkey.
Today felt like a Monday.... until it felt like no other day. As I scurried toward my classroom, late and hoping no one would notice, I was crestfallen to discover my principal standing just outside my door. My mind started whirring, "What would I say?" Had the infant-at-home-keeps-me-up-all-night line become tired? Should I mention the construction traffic detour blocking my regular route to work? While attempting to string together something believable that didn't sound rehearsed I stole a glance only to realize that her expression was not what I was expecting. It seemed almost... sympathetic.
"Oh, Mrs. Wallace, there you are. Come here, come in quickly." It was only then I realized she'd been holding the door only fractionally ajar and blocking the space the best she could with her petite frame. She ushered me into the room, looking over her shoulder as she closed the door. The sight that met my eyes was one I never anticipated. There, scrawled across the wall of my classroom in dripping red letters was the most ominous string of words I'd ever seen. Below, the desks and once neatly-sorted materials were in a state that denoted vandalism, maybe theft. Before I had time to process what I was seeing she began explaining her plan of action. (Principals love to create action plans.)
"So, it has already been announced that your classes will be meeting in the computer lab in 306. You have a little time to adjust your plans for the day. Students don't need to know anything happened. Mr. Montgomery will need to come in here and clean, but of course he'll need to wait until the police have finished. Though, we're going to have to be careful to avoid drawing attention..."
My head was spinning. Did she really expect me to possess clarity at that moment? Instead of absorbing her instructions, my mind was racing. I nodded, collected my lesson plan notebook and a few books-I'm not sure I even knew which they were-and I began shuffling toward the computer lab to which she had directed me. The clamor of doors and footsteps began to fill the hall just as I flipped the light switch, but I was lost inside my own thoughts. One by one my students arrived, turning on computers and firing off the normal questions and complaints: Can I go to CoolMath? What are we doing? Why are we here? Why can't we have free time?! Do we have to do Academy of Reading? I need to do a project.
I carefully scanned their faces, wondering if they knew, wondering if it was possible that any of them could be responsible. After quietly, firmly instructing my students to log in to the Academy of Reading program they were already quite familiar with, I paced furtive circles around them, hoping they wouldn't notice that I was somewhere else and at the same time trying to be on alert for any signs that they held knowledge I did not.
The periods blurred together. I ate lunch alone in the teacher's lounge, which is really only a couple of vending machines that rarely work sitting outside of a single, unisex bathroom; I didn't want to discuss it, and, anyway, I didn't know what to say. The day was long, but when the bell sounded for dismissal I stared at the clock, surprised that the day was over. I had somehow managed to avoid any discussion of
b a l d e r d a s h !
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