One of my biggest gripes about teaching was the rampant theft. At the beginning of the year, I was provided with a few basic supplies, but had to purchase the rest myself. I wouldn't mind this fact so much if I were able to retain these items. Alas, my precious darlings would take anything they could get their hands on seemingly just for the sport of it. Over time, I've had countless white board markers, two staplers, a pair of scissors, several boxes of crayons, hundreds of pieces of paper, correction fluid, and three board erasers all stolen from me, leaving me frustrated. Moreover, at the rate the supplies were stolen, it was pointless to replace them, seeing as they would just disappear again, making it a big waste of my money. Unfortunately, I needed some of these items to operate my classroom, so I was forced to purchase them anyway, even if it meant losing them soon after.Since I never caught any of my students in the act of stealing, I rarely spoke of it to the kids. However, when my $12 three hole punch vanished, I finally lost it, ranting to my class about how I would be buying no more new supplies since they continually went missing.
After class, a student approached me. "Mr. [Kevin], do you not know where your stuff is going?"
I asserted that I did not, then paused for him to rat out another rotten student. Instead, the student suggested a supposedly hypothetical situation wherein certain teachers and students formed a coalition in which the students provided the teachers with stolen school supplies in return for higher grades.
"This is ridiculous," I ultimately moaned. "Who is involved in this?"
The student refused to give the names of the students or other teachers complicit with this pact, again reminding me that it's not a definite situation, but it "might" be the case.
"Do you want to be a part?" the student asked.
I told him that in the past, I had agreed to have students purchase me supplies in exchange for nominal extra credit, but that I wasn't going to condone stealing from other teachers.
"You don't really think they buy those things, do they?" the student pressed. I thought back to some recently acquired items, unpackaged white board markers and an opened box of #2 pencils. I hadn't really thought about where they came from; they easily might have been stolen goods.
"Regardless, there's no way I'll do it," I said.
"Suit yourself," the student responded coolly, exiting the room.
The next day, my stapler went missing. The obvious suspect would have been the student who tried to work out a deal with me the day before, but it had to have been someone else since, due to block scheduling, he wasn't even in my class that day. I waited until the next class to ask the student about the incident.
"Did you know my stapler is gone?" I asked before class started.
"Maybe," the student said. "If I can get it back, will you give me extra credit?"
As much as I didn't want to reward thievery, curiosity got the best of me, so I played the game. "Sure, I suppose if my stapler magically appeared, some extra points could magically appear in the grade book, too."
Indeed, the next day, although I didn't see how it got there, I found the stapler back on my desk. It was alarming more than satisfying. A day later, the student asked if I was interested in getting white board markers, as well. I rejected the offer, explaining that I didn't want to make it a habit.
"You're in or you're out," the student warned.
"I'm out," I reaffirmed, laughing at the faux-earnestness.
Over the course of the next couple of days, my dozen or so white board markers dwindled to just two, though I never saw the culprits. I threatened my weasel of a student that once I caught him doing it, I would have him punished to the fullest extent.
"Well, you're not going to catch me because I'm not taking them," the student said. I believed this to be truthful since I spent the whole period eyeing the student suspiciously, hoping to catch him in the act. No, others must be involved.
"Do you want your markers back?" the student asked.
I could maintain my pride and refuse the extortion or I could save about ten dollars. "Okay," I conceded.
Through the remainder of the week, the markers poured in a few at a time. The student covertly slipped them to me as if it were some sort of currency exchange; white board markers were like the cigarettes of prison society. To compensate my miniature double agent, I agreed to give him extra credit, though I secretly limited it to mere fractions of percentage points so as not to reward a hooligan.
It didn't stop at the markers. "I thought you might need some tape," the student said, handing me an unsolicited present. I asked who he got it from, but of course he wouldn't tell me. That was part of the arrangement. I knew this meant that some other teacher was now cursing for losing eir roll of tape, but I did need it, so I turned a blind eye. Similarly, I didn't question the subsequent gifts like reams of notebook paper and a glue stick. I was getting hooked up. Additionally, I wasn't losing items anymore, either. By joining the crime ring, my existing supplies were being protected.
Once the process started, I never had to ask for items, they were just delivered to me by a few different students who eventually became comfortable enough to make it obvious that they were complicit in these activities, too. I had nearly everything I needed, but I was still short a three hole punch, so I put out a request to my crew to have it returned for significant extra credit.
Within two days, I had a three hole punch. The only problem was that it wasn't the one I initially lost, in fact, it had a label on the bottom with another teacher's name on it. Consequently, I felt bad; I was no longer dealing with nameless victims, now I had essentially indirectly stolen from a colleague and friend. I told the ringleader that I didn't want this other teacher's three hole punch, I wanted my own back. He told me that he wasn't sure where mine was, it probably changed hands a few times by now. Furthermore, he said most of the things I was returned, the stapler, the markers, weren't necessarily mine, just similar items from other teachers.
I couldn't believe I had unintentionally gotten myself in the thick of some absurd school supply black market. I felt as if I were in a mobster movie, except that the stakes were laughably trivial even though it felt just as intense. Helplessly, I told the student I wanted out, but that I didn't want my stuff to be taken. I asked if we could work out some deal where I remained neutral and no objects entered or left my classroom.
"Extra credit?" he asked. I agreed to furnish him with a lump of extra credit to ensure nothing was taken or brought to me from then on. It was a deal.
Feeling guilty, I brought the three hole punch back to its rightful owner. "Are you missing a three hole punch?" I coyly asked the teacher. I played dumb and told her it mysteriously showed up in my classroom without any indication that I knew more. She was appreciative and explained that she had lost that thing months ago. Months ago? I wonder where it had been floating around in the meantime.
"I see you got a new one," I said, gesturing toward another three hole punch on her desk.
"Oh yeah, a student got it for me," she explained. It looked just like the one I had initially bought, though I had no way of verifying whether it was originally mine since I never thought to label it or anything.
Was she in on this crime ring, too? Did I just feel sympathy for someone potentially as guilty as me? Furthermore, were the students fucking with us? Were they just trading the items around our classrooms in some lavish scheme to boost their grades? And why were we letting them succeed? I confronted my student liaison, but I never got a straight answer as to what exactly was going on in these illicit dealings, then quit teaching before I could investigate more fully. Regardless of the students' true intentions, I'm genuinely embarrassed at how caught up I became in these theatric petty thefts. My survival instinct overrode my morals in an over-the-top game for possession of white board markers.
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