Needless to say, that tard room I work in doesn't have a pencil sharpener. I have one that suction cups to my desk that I keep in a locked drawer. Whenever I need to sharpen a pencil, I take it out, clamp it down, and sharpen away. Today I got the sharpener out for Antonio's pencil. I figured while I have it out I might as well ask if any of the other tards need their pencils sharpened. I make this announcement, and Joe immediately wedges his head under his desk and starts crying.
This doesn't surprise me. Joe usually acts this way whenever he has done something wrong. I walk over to him and ask him what the problem is.
"Nothin'" he replies.
I go back to my desk to begin sharpening tard pencils. Most of the tards come up, including Joe. One by one they hand me their pencils and I sharpen them. Joe steps up and hands me a magic marker.
I manage to explain to Joe that it isn't a pencil, and you don't need to sharpen it. Joe insists that it is a pencil and that I have to sharpen it. I'm about to explain for a second time, when Joe grabs the marker and shoves it in the pencil sharpener. He starts cranking the poor thing like crazy and the marker begins bleeding all over the desk. By the time I pulled Joe away from the sharpener he had mauled the marker down to a one inch stub.
I made Joe sit down and write an apology, with a pencil that I provided. In his apology Joe wrote about how he had lost his pencil and he thought I would be angry, so he brought up a marker. He wrote that he thought he could trick me, and he is sorry.
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