The Tardy Games is the new thing my school is raving about. Mocking The Hunger Games, “The Tardy Games” is a school-wide competition where each first hour tries to not have anyone tardy for the duration of the so-called “games” and the last classroom left will win a free breakfast from Panera. What could be better right? Of course, all of the students are trying their best not to be late because that breakfast—which most likely will consist of half a bagel and a box of orange juice knowing how cheap my school is—sounds oh so promising.
When it came to these games, I knew my first hour was not going to win. We have at least five people late every morning and I am 99.999% positive that my teacher knew we had already lost before it began. Being the good student that I am, I was going to do my best to get to school on time for those days so I would not cause my classroom to lose—which is ironic because I eventually did.
I remember the day before the first day of “The Tardy Games”, there was a tiny blizzard overnight. I woke up early that morning and came outside to a Winter Wonderland. While all the elementary school kids were happily waiting for their bus and playing in the snow, I was standing there in my pajamas, holding a shovel, and wondering how I was going to get all the snow off of my car. About fifteen extremely tiring minutes later, I had finished my work-out....well cleaning off my car, but it’s pretty much the same thing.
Even though the roads were perfectly fine, the fact that there was snow covering the grass made people think it was necessary to drive at a high of 15 mph, in case, God-forbid, the snow grew legs and attacked their tires, causing them to spin off of the road and wind up buried in a ditch. I finally arrived to school after a twenty minute drive, when it should have taken me only five, and made my trip to the farthest parking lot because somehow students managed to get to school earlier that day and there was no parking close to the building. Of course, the students at my high school decide that when there is even a speck of snow in the parking lot, they don’t have to park appropriately, so naturally, all of the cars looked like they were parked by a blind person. I finally squeezed into a spot, and was happy to see that I still had plenty of time to get to class because I had been smart and left early.
I’m not sure why my high school decided not to shovel the sidewalk that morning, but they DIDN’T. The parking lot was full of slush, so either way I had to get my boots soaking wet. The journey all the way from the far lot to the only front door that is open took forever. On top of that, I did not have time to eat my breakfast that morning because of my early morning exercise, so I was juggling my coffee in one hand and my breakfast sandwich in the other. For safety reasons (obviously), when I made it to the only door that the 3,000 high school students can enter through (besi de the bus door—notice its singular), I was stopped and asked for my school ID. I know it’s required, but I had already had an annoying morning and the fact that the security guard knows my first name and that I am, in fact, a student at my school really grinded my gears. After pausing to put down all of my stuff, take off my gloves, fish out my ID from my wallet, flash it to the security guard for less than a second, and stuff it back, I was ready to get to class.
By then the two minute bell had rung, and I did not want to risk being late, so I skipped going to my locker. Thankfully, my first period class is in the front of the school and I didn’t have to walk very far . As I stepped carefully down the hallway (trying not to slip because the floor was very wet), I noticed teachers outside of their classrooms encouraging students to get to class. All around me peers were diving into their rooms and I swear I heard “Chariots of Fire” playing over the speaker. My teacher was among one of those standing outside his classroom, counting down as there were twenty seconds left. I remember I was within speaking distance of him when there was five seconds left and I told him, “I’m coming, I’m coming! I don’t want to slip and fall because the floor and my boots are soaking wet.”
He then nodded and smiled because I thought he understood. Well, apparently he did not.
As I was about to step inside the classroom, literally two seconds later, the bell rang and I had one foot already in the door way. My teacher was holding onto the door handle and I thought he was going to close it after me, which is why I was shocked when he started closing it in my face. If I had not moved back, he would have smacked me with the door. I stood there with a puzzled look on my face and questioned my teacher because I did not understand, and his answer to me was simply “Sorry, “The Tardy Games”, “The Tardy Games”, I don’t want to cheat, ya know?” No teacher, I DO NOT KNOW.
Furiously, I turned around and walked away before I said something to the teacher that would make me regret going to school that day in the first place. Because my teacher had been so understanding, I decided to take my time getting that late pass. I wandered around the school for a little, laughing at the line of students getting late passes—which consisted of half of the school—and finally made my way up to the library.
When I was there, a friend of mine from that same class was there getting an independent reading book and when I saw her, I didn’t have to say anything because she knew why I was upset. She went up to me and told me that after I left, the whole class was interrogating the teacher and asking him why he didn’t just let me in. His simply responded, “On any other day, I’d probably let her in, but “The Tardy Games”, I don’t want to cheat”. Not only had he basically kicked me out of the classroom, but he also said even if it wasn’t “The Tardy Games”, there was only a chance that he would let me in. What was I supposed to do? Hurry up and fall? Slip and break my ankle? Remember, IT’S JUST A GAME. Ugh, and I get in trouble when I take things too seriously..
Anyways, after I had simmered down from that event, I went to get a late pass. I was overjoyed when at the bottom it said “This is your third unexcused tardy. Disciplinary action: lunch detention. Failure to do so will result in an after school detention”. Only once more in my life had I had some form of school punishment, and that was in third grade when I signed a form pretending to be my mom and saying that I read this book for fifteen minutes because I forgot to do it. I was terrified when my teacher asked if my mother really signed it, because I guess my elementary level cursive was not convincing enough for her.
Brushing it off, I walked into my classroom and threw the pass on the teacher’s desk. Manners were the last thing I was concerned about, especially because he had been sooo understanding with me (sarcasm). I sat down and just tried to get through the class.
About twenty five minutes later, one of my teacher’s favorites walked in the class and plopped down in his seat as if he was not even late. The teacher called him up to his desk and asked him where his late pass was and of course the water works came out. I could not hear all that the student had said, but from what I did hear, it sounded like he was complaining about some long train and how it took forever and BLAH BLAH BLAH, cry me a river. At least he would have to get a late pass like I did and suffer the consequences of The Tardy Games, but to my surprise I heard the teacher say, and I quote, “Oh, it’s okay, I understand, you don’t have to get a late pass, it’s okay.” He said it as if the student was his baby and he was trying to comfort him and let him know that mommy was here. I was honestly expecting my teacher to wrap him up in his arms and start breastfeeding him. Thankfully, that did not happen. There are some things you cannot unsee.
Overall, my experience with “The Tardy Games” was not a pleasant one. I believe it is a good idea to try to motivate students to get to class on time, but teachers—well this one teacher in particular that I will keep nameless for the sake of being the bigger person—need to remember that it is just a game. Sometimes it’s okay to be understanding and letting a student get to class safely will not kill you. If breakfast from Panera is honestly that important to you, let me know and I will give you $10 so you can go experience its overpriced mediocrity. I’d even take you myself, but I know that you have separation issues when it comes to your favorite students. Anyways, good luck to the classes that are still in the games and remember, may the odds be ever in your favor…
…because they aren’t and never will be.
When it came to these games, I knew my first hour was not going to win. We have at least five people late every morning and I am 99.999% positive that my teacher knew we had already lost before it began. Being the good student that I am, I was going to do my best to get to school on time for those days so I would not cause my classroom to lose—which is ironic because I eventually did.
I remember the day before the first day of “The Tardy Games”, there was a tiny blizzard overnight. I woke up early that morning and came outside to a Winter Wonderland. While all the elementary school kids were happily waiting for their bus and playing in the snow, I was standing there in my pajamas, holding a shovel, and wondering how I was going to get all the snow off of my car. About fifteen extremely tiring minutes later, I had finished my work-out....well cleaning off my car, but it’s pretty much the same thing.
Even though the roads were perfectly fine, the fact that there was snow covering the grass made people think it was necessary to drive at a high of 15 mph, in case, God-forbid, the snow grew legs and attacked their tires, causing them to spin off of the road and wind up buried in a ditch. I finally arrived to school after a twenty minute drive, when it should have taken me only five, and made my trip to the farthest parking lot because somehow students managed to get to school earlier that day and there was no parking close to the building. Of course, the students at my high school decide that when there is even a speck of snow in the parking lot, they don’t have to park appropriately, so naturally, all of the cars looked like they were parked by a blind person. I finally squeezed into a spot, and was happy to see that I still had plenty of time to get to class because I had been smart and left early.
I’m not sure why my high school decided not to shovel the sidewalk that morning, but they DIDN’T. The parking lot was full of slush, so either way I had to get my boots soaking wet. The journey all the way from the far lot to the only front door that is open took forever. On top of that, I did not have time to eat my breakfast that morning because of my early morning exercise, so I was juggling my coffee in one hand and my breakfast sandwich in the other. For safety reasons (obviously), when I made it to the only door that the 3,000 high school students can enter through (besi de the bus door—notice its singular), I was stopped and asked for my school ID. I know it’s required, but I had already had an annoying morning and the fact that the security guard knows my first name and that I am, in fact, a student at my school really grinded my gears. After pausing to put down all of my stuff, take off my gloves, fish out my ID from my wallet, flash it to the security guard for less than a second, and stuff it back, I was ready to get to class.
By then the two minute bell had rung, and I did not want to risk being late, so I skipped going to my locker. Thankfully, my first period class is in the front of the school and I didn’t have to walk very far . As I stepped carefully down the hallway (trying not to slip because the floor was very wet), I noticed teachers outside of their classrooms encouraging students to get to class. All around me peers were diving into their rooms and I swear I heard “Chariots of Fire” playing over the speaker. My teacher was among one of those standing outside his classroom, counting down as there were twenty seconds left. I remember I was within speaking distance of him when there was five seconds left and I told him, “I’m coming, I’m coming! I don’t want to slip and fall because the floor and my boots are soaking wet.”
He then nodded and smiled because I thought he understood. Well, apparently he did not.
As I was about to step inside the classroom, literally two seconds later, the bell rang and I had one foot already in the door way. My teacher was holding onto the door handle and I thought he was going to close it after me, which is why I was shocked when he started closing it in my face. If I had not moved back, he would have smacked me with the door. I stood there with a puzzled look on my face and questioned my teacher because I did not understand, and his answer to me was simply “Sorry, “The Tardy Games”, “The Tardy Games”, I don’t want to cheat, ya know?” No teacher, I DO NOT KNOW.
Furiously, I turned around and walked away before I said something to the teacher that would make me regret going to school that day in the first place. Because my teacher had been so understanding, I decided to take my time getting that late pass. I wandered around the school for a little, laughing at the line of students getting late passes—which consisted of half of the school—and finally made my way up to the library.
When I was there, a friend of mine from that same class was there getting an independent reading book and when I saw her, I didn’t have to say anything because she knew why I was upset. She went up to me and told me that after I left, the whole class was interrogating the teacher and asking him why he didn’t just let me in. His simply responded, “On any other day, I’d probably let her in, but “The Tardy Games”, I don’t want to cheat”. Not only had he basically kicked me out of the classroom, but he also said even if it wasn’t “The Tardy Games”, there was only a chance that he would let me in. What was I supposed to do? Hurry up and fall? Slip and break my ankle? Remember, IT’S JUST A GAME. Ugh, and I get in trouble when I take things too seriously..
Anyways, after I had simmered down from that event, I went to get a late pass. I was overjoyed when at the bottom it said “This is your third unexcused tardy. Disciplinary action: lunch detention. Failure to do so will result in an after school detention”. Only once more in my life had I had some form of school punishment, and that was in third grade when I signed a form pretending to be my mom and saying that I read this book for fifteen minutes because I forgot to do it. I was terrified when my teacher asked if my mother really signed it, because I guess my elementary level cursive was not convincing enough for her.
Brushing it off, I walked into my classroom and threw the pass on the teacher’s desk. Manners were the last thing I was concerned about, especially because he had been sooo understanding with me (sarcasm). I sat down and just tried to get through the class.
About twenty five minutes later, one of my teacher’s favorites walked in the class and plopped down in his seat as if he was not even late. The teacher called him up to his desk and asked him where his late pass was and of course the water works came out. I could not hear all that the student had said, but from what I did hear, it sounded like he was complaining about some long train and how it took forever and BLAH BLAH BLAH, cry me a river. At least he would have to get a late pass like I did and suffer the consequences of The Tardy Games, but to my surprise I heard the teacher say, and I quote, “Oh, it’s okay, I understand, you don’t have to get a late pass, it’s okay.” He said it as if the student was his baby and he was trying to comfort him and let him know that mommy was here. I was honestly expecting my teacher to wrap him up in his arms and start breastfeeding him. Thankfully, that did not happen. There are some things you cannot unsee.
Overall, my experience with “The Tardy Games” was not a pleasant one. I believe it is a good idea to try to motivate students to get to class on time, but teachers—well this one teacher in particular that I will keep nameless for the sake of being the bigger person—need to remember that it is just a game. Sometimes it’s okay to be understanding and letting a student get to class safely will not kill you. If breakfast from Panera is honestly that important to you, let me know and I will give you $10 so you can go experience its overpriced mediocrity. I’d even take you myself, but I know that you have separation issues when it comes to your favorite students. Anyways, good luck to the classes that are still in the games and remember, may the odds be ever in your favor…
…because they aren’t and never will be.
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