The Saga of the Homeless Pencils

"Miss LastName, can I sharpen my pencil?"

"Not right now because it's during class time. Remember, we said pencils could be sharpened before class, during your warm-up activity, and after class. However, come over here and I will show you something."

My eighth graders turned around in their seats to face me as I stood in one of the back corners of my classroom.

"Let me tell you a story ... a sad tale about homeless pencils. Sometimes," I paused, allowing myself to adopt a pained and saddened expression.

"Sometimes, after a class has left, I find abandoned pencils on the floor. These poor pencils have been abandoned by their beloved owners, and they lie there, neglected, unloved, with no happy pencil pouch to call their home-"

"Miss LastName, are you crying?" asked one of the girls in the back row. (I was really hamming it up, and by this time, my eyes were almost moist.)

"Oh my gosh, she totally is!" One of the other girls said in response.

I interrupted my story to clarify, "No, I'm not crying ... I'm simply acting ... but let me continue with my story."

"So these pencils ... these poor, homeless pencils, left behind in my classroom ... I adopt them. When I discover one of these pencils which has been neglected, I place it in this bucket," I said, holding the bucket up, "and this becomes its new home."

"So ... if you forgot to bring a pencil, there just may be a homeless pencil which you may adopt." I handed a sharpened homeless pencil to the student who had wanted to sharpen her own pencil during class.

"Oh, and by the way, for those of you who were convinced by my acting ... I'm co-sponsoring the musical in the Spring ... in case you're interested in trying out."