I'm a Star in my Imagination

Ever have those moments where you realize how embarrassed you'd be if somebody saw what you were doing? I'm talking about one of those heart dropping, blushing red all the way to the tips of your toes kind of moments.

I was in the copy room today, making my copies (last minute, of course) for the next block. When another teacher came in, I realized that there was actually a third person in the room, who, I'm sure, had been there the entire time I was there. I did a double take and then braced myself against the copier, racking my brain. Had I been dancing? twirling? picking a wedgie? Nope. I think I'm safe--this time, at least.

I suppose this fear comes from my habit of imaginatively expressing myself after hours. I wonder, sometimes, if they ever review the security cameras that I'm sure they have in the hall, for whether it's me simply staring at them with a perplexed look (is there really a camera in that black little bubble?), sliding down the empty hallways in my hose, trying to tap dance in my clickety shoes, or simply running (well, jogging would be more like it) from one room to the next, I'm sure that whoever views those tapes has to wonder what's wrong with me.

I think spending ten to twelve hours out of a cinder cell is explanation enough.