At the end of October all the way through December, I attempted the Rent-a-Pencil solution: You need to borrow a pencil from me? You'll need to rent one. With what money, you ask? No money. Just one of your shoes. (cue squeals of delighted laughter) Which shoe? I don't care. Pick one and put it by the door. If you want your shoe back, give me back my pencil on your way out. What if you want to keep my pencil and it's very very cold and/or raining that day? I guess one of your feet is going to be extremely wet and/or cold that day. Or, better yet: Try to bring your own pencil on cold/rainy days. What if your mom gets upset when you come home with just one shoe? Tell your mom to call me so I can explain how upset I get when I have to keep buying pencils because they keep going home with people they don't belong to. What if you forget to wear socks on a day you need to rent a pencil? One of your feet will be stupendously cold, sorry, hate that for you. What if your feet are stinky that day? Make sure you bathe and powder them every single morning. Just in case since you never know. What if you need a pencil AND an eraser? I'll require one shoe for each. Yes, that does mean you will be working in your bare feet. Just like old timey country folk.
Sadly, my Rent-a-Pencil plan did not thwart them. In fact, they began purposefully NOT bringing pencils and erasers with them just for a chance to work barefoot. And I can't blame them; quite frankly, shoes simply aren't as comfortable as working in bare feet. Shoes get overly hot and by the end of the day, your feet can feel way too pinched. Don't even get me started on stilettos. Whoever invented that nuttiness surely was a sado-masochist. However, my pencils (along with erasers, too, now) began disappearing more rapidly than at the start. I was Mohammed trying to bring the mountain, and the mountain refused to come. The mountain, in fact, decided to stick its tongue out at me and flip the bird.
So I started taping my pencils. With pretty, pretty purple tape that would be totally hard to miss if someone attempted to walk out the door with it. And please know: I absolutely was under the assumption this Pencil Situation was all a giant misunderstanding. I was certain the walk-offs were just accidents--people in a hurry to leave, innocently forgetting to return a borrowed object. And so I thought: a-HA! Purple tape! Surely, seeing my purple tape would remind them: Oh yes, must put this back.
That's when I discovered the deep seriousness of The Pencil Situation: these people weren't just accidentally walking off with my pencils. No. These people were nefariously taking them. My poor, innocent pencils were, gasp!, being pencil napped. And yes--you read right. I DID just use the words "nefarious" and "pencil napped." Right out from under my nose! Nefarious! Pencil napping! In broad daylight. Just like C does with magazines from doctor/dentist offices ("What? What?" he says, "They put those in there because they want you to take them. They're just a bunch of old magazines sitting around. They put them there so people will take them home so they'll stop cluttering up the waiting area.").
Anyway. I started finding purple tape on my floor, stuck under my tables, placed strategically low on my walls, behind my &^%$#%^& smart board that still never works right and gives me issues. We had to have a long talk about the differences between accidentally forgetting to return something one borrows vs. actually concocting devious ways with which to keep it.
I was pretty ticked. Yeah, they're just pencils. But if you add up how many bags of Starbursts, Skittles, bottles of glue, AND boxes (yes, BOXES) of pencils I've bought since taking over this position in September (not to mention a handful of bulletin board sets, a couple of teaching idea books, some Science materials, holiday treat bags(times 100), three packs of black construction paper because I ran out of that color, and ten extra scissors ( as some of those have disappeared, too), we have now reached a grand total of exactly one house mortgage payment, half of which has left my classroom in the form of pencils.
Still. I had to be so careful. SO careful! As I discussed The Pencil Situation with my sweet friends. I don't know who these pencil nappers are, exactly, or if it's even a plural issue. Out of my 100 kids, it could just be one lone diabolical pencil napper. Plus, I don't know if you've noticed or not lately, but teachers in America seem to be landing on the 5 o'clock news in less than proud ways (personally, I think the 5 o'clock news just needs more to do--it's clearly got far too much time on its hands).
The heart warming aspect of this is that I must say: They were all so wonderful about it. Really. Every single one of them. Every single kid sincerely expressed deep, honest concern over my bank account situation, my rising blood pressure levels whenever I looked at my dwindling pencil supply and/or found more evidence of purposeful tape removal. Every single kid was indignant. Indignant! In fact, if you were to stop anyone of those boys and girls and poll them on how they feel about The Pencil Situation in Ms. S's room, I promise--they are as hot about it as I am.
In addition, many people clearly on their way to successful careers in law enforcement, law, and/or political and educational reform jobs offered up several very creative ways I might use in my attempts to thwart the Pencil Swipers. James Bond-like security cameras were suggested, and offers of full-time security guard work were given. One sweet girl noted once watching a movie about bank robbers having to deal with explosive ink on money--maybe I could rig up some type of explosive ink to my pencils that would explode as soon as a pencil nabber attempted to exit the room? Wonderful, impractical ideas only the innocent can think up. And, while not one person ever came forward and confessed the day we had The Pencil Talk, I did find one of my purple taped pencils quietly returned the next day...all chewed up and nubby, eraser completely gone. I was deeply touched by that person, whoever s/he was. If I'd seen them return it, I'd have hugged him/her and given him/her a couple of Skittles for being so honest (finally).
Fortunately, I've come up with a solution to The Pencil Situation in 3rd grade. I call it Duct Tape Solves Everything. I think I even saw on Pinterest once you can clean an entire two story house with a single piece of duct tape. (Ha, I'm just messing with you. Duct tape will not clean your entire house. But it will function pretty handily as a cat hair scraper upper.) So I sifted through my big, scary drawer o' junk, found a little hot pink number, and promptly wrapped up about 6 pencils. Besides fixing leaky pipes and electrical wiring (when not moonlighting as a prom dress or a purse), do you know how hard it is to get duct tape off stuff? No kid in 3rd grade knew. I have completely confounded them, and have retained every single one of my Rent-a-Pencils.
....for now. I'm sure my Pencil Swipers are putting their heads together at recess every day figuring out creative ways to quietly remove it. My classroom has become their pencil swipage dojo, and I their pencil swipage sensei. Onwards, grasshoppers of pencil grifting. Next, I'll be wrapping fake flowers to all my pencils and chuckling mirthlessly as 3rd grade boys get all huffy about having to use girly stuff in class (I don't actually think I need to go as far as strapping fake flowers onto my pencils to keep them where they belong; I just get highly entertained watching 3rd grade boys get all huffy about having to use girly themed stuff).
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