Skip to main content

copier ettiquite when there is a long line the Friday afternoon before school starts

1. Make only what you need for that day ( or in this case for Monday). Do not make copies for 2 days from now or 2 weeks from now or 2 months from now.
2. Have your stuff together. This is not the time to cut and paste with your scissors. White things out or copy multiple single pages from a workbook.
3. It better be useful, like your syllabus. Not 175 cartoons or color pages or recipes that you just happen to want to try.
4. Packets of more than 5 pages will have to be made later. Like in the middle of the night or something.
5. Sure you can sneak out of line to pee, or buy a soda from the machine. NOT go to Starbucks and come back adn expect your place to still be there.
6. Be kind to the copier. Use it gently, make sure the paper is straight ( and loaded). No stray staples or taped up originals. Nothing that can potentially jam the machine is allowed. If it breaks on your set, be prepared to run. Fast.
7. Do not under any circumstances walk away from the machine while it is making your copies.
8. Do not walk into the copy room, see at least a dozen people waiting and ask if you can sneak in that you only have a few. Wait at least 2 weeks into school to start asking for cuts.
9. Usually, proper copier ettiquite says copy for 10 minutes, then get back in line. First day of school changes those rules a bit. Mabye 20 minutes. One hour is not acceptable and not the way to make friends at a new school.
10. Be ready for quick changeouts. If it finishes a set. Run do not walk to put your next set down. Also not a good idea to ask the person who is waiting on you to finish your billion copies to do it for you because you don't want to get up.
11. Now would be a really really good time to go green. Save trees and a few hours of your time and decide maybe not everyone needs their own personal copy of that anyways.


Popular posts from this blog

preachers and parades.

Months ago, I sat in a pew and tried to not think about the fact that you could count on one hand the number of white congregants in the room.
And I was one of them.
 I did not want to draw attention to myself, but despite the fact that I have been to church most Sundays of my life, I had no idea what to do. When to sit, stand, pray or the lyrics to any of the songs. The rules here seemed so different than my own church, just a few miles away. Filled with people who mostly looked like me.
 A few elderly African American women were seated next to me and were kind enough to attempt to make me feel welcome and tell me what to do. At some point Eunice, in a bright purple dress, slid her arthritic hand on top of mine, squeezed and tugged me to the front to pray.
 I let her lead me, because I didn’t how else to respond, and because she seemed so genuinely glad that I was there, singing off key next to her.

 It was not lost on me, that my slight discomfort was one of choice and ended just …

The annual REAL Christmas letter

One of my favorite traditions for a decade has been to sit down and try to write a REAL Christmas letter.  Not just the highlights, but a few honest moments as well. It started as a joke with one of my friends, thinking how refreshing it be for people to share more than just their perfect lives that we are used to seeing on Facebook and Instagram. It would be way more truthful and a whole lot more entertaining. Last new year, I had a friend ask me to come up with a word for 2018. I joked that my word was just going to be “done”. I was partly kidding, partly serious. The year ahead seemed daunting rather than full of promise and resolutions.  I had so many things to finish in the upcoming year that I needed to be “done” with: my degree, my job and my thirties. A few weeks later, my friend showed up with one of those string bracelets with the metal word “done” hammered in the middle. I wore it often, especially in those home stretches. Not taking it off until I had my last chapter writte…

game day

“But I don’t want to go to soccer, I’m tired”
says the boy who has been running circles around the living room for the last hour.

“No, I don’t want to wear my jersey”
says the same boy that slept in his uniform just last week.

And so I do what any good mom would do, which is start bribing my kid.
I promise him ring pops or pizza or new toys for having a good attitude, listening to his coach and trying his best.
But those things are not quite enough to make him eagerly lace up his cleats.

Owen actually loves soccer practice.
And is one of the best dribblers on the teams.
And he loves kicking the ball around the living room and in the front yard.
But games days are hell.
Instead of being a proud momma on the sideline snapping pictures
I am usually trying not to cry.
Because Owen has realized that he isn’t really good at it.
That the other kids are bigger and faster and score more goals.

And today his team won. And they haven’t won many games.
And they cheered and lined up eagerly for patches and sna…