Is This What We've Come To?

You can't make this stuff up.

A pastry on which a seven-year-old boy was nibbling at a Maryland school gradually took the shape of a gun.  In the process of handling it, he pointed it at another student, who apparently thought she was going to be shot.  The boy was suspended for two days.  Perhaps one day parents somewhere will receive a letter like this:

Dear parents,

It is with a heavy heart that I write to you about an incident that occurred yesterday at our beloved Hugo Chavez Memorial Elementary School of Social Engineering, which involved six-year-old second grader and possible future serial killer, Cal Lotion.

Cal--we call him Itchy--came to school with what appeared to be sniffles.  He had in his possession a travel-size package of tissues.  We naturally assumed he carried them to wipe his snotty little nose.  We were horribly wrong.

Itchy was observed in class removing a tissue from its package, holding it up to his face, blowing into it through his nose, crumbling it and placing it on the edge of his desk.  As the tissue sat there it looked more and more like it had been purposely folded.  His teacher perceived that the tissue suspiciously resembled a firearm; specifically, a .357 magnum.

The teacher asked Itchy what he had on his desk.  Itchy picked up the pseudo-weapon and swung it toward the teacher.  A little girl sitting between Itchy and the front of the classroom screamed and ducked down under her desk.  The teacher yelled, "Get down NOW!"  Some of the students sitting closest to the door bolted into the hallway.  The rest scrambled under their desks.

I was able to corral one of the kids who were running down the hall.  I asked her why she was running, and she pointed back toward the classroom and shouted, "Gun!  Gun!"  I immediately locked down the school and called 911.

In a matter of minutes SWAT showed up.  I told them about the hostage situation and directed them to the classroom.  They burst into the room, guns aimed and sweeping, spotted Itchy holding the realistic-looking weapon, tackled him and wrestled him to the floor.  They confiscated it and placed it in an evidence bag.  Unfortunately, when they did the tissue lost its shape, making criminal prosecution unlikely.  Nevertheless, at my insistence, they handcuffed Itchy and led him out to their meat wagon.  This little miscreant may beat the justice system, but he's not going to beat me.  Oh, no.  He's not going to beat me!

I called Itchy's parents, Aloe and Vera, and informed them of the arrest of their son.  Although their outrage and hostility were expected, I nevertheless found it inexplicable, given our zero-tolerance for weapons of any sort, actual or imaginary.  I told them Itchy had been removed from the rolls of our school and strongly suggested they seek psychiatric help for him at the earliest.  You may rest assured that this particular terrorist will no longer pose a threat to your child.

You may also be secure in the knowledge that tissues have been added to the list of contraband objects.  Henceforth, tissues of any sort, whether packaged or loose, are banned.  Monitors will be assigned to our restrooms and will strip-search every child who goes number two.  Children caught trying to remove tissue from restrooms will be expelled.  Any child caught trying to introduce tissues to our campus will be denied entrance and arrested.

I have made available to all who seek counsel a team of psychologists who specialize in post-traumatic stress.  I, myself, have sought their help and plan to join a support group made up of those who have had similar experiences.  I strongly urge you to avail yourselves of their professional expertise.

Sincerely,

Arthur Chipping, Principal