The Recalcitrant Door~

On Friday, the kids and I noticed that we couldn't properly close the back door that leads into the classroom from the playground. All attempts to pull it shut resulted in the door swinging right back out. This caused quite the uproar since a recalcitrant door is not within the realm of usual kindergarten experiences. So, the kids practically dogpiled each other to get at the door and properly close it. After all, if I can't close the door, they reason, surely one of them can!

I redirected them and eventually we got down to the brass tacks of reading The Teeny Tiny Woman for the 17th time this week. Shouting "GIVE ME MY BONE!" quickly took their minds off the door that would not properly close.

Later that afternoon, after Julie and I put away the tricycles, we entered my classroom using the recalcitrant door.

"Your door won't close," said Julie.

"I know," I replied. "It started acting up today."

She examined the door from the outside and then from the inside before pronouncing that if the door won't close, the alarm can't be set, and this could be a huge problem.

We bent over to examine the door frame and the metal plate that holds the prongs that come from the doorknob.

"Look," said Julie, wiggling the plate, "this is loose." She began using her keys in an attempt to tighten the loose screws.

"Maybe we should get a screwdriver," I suggested. But Julie was successful with her door key. Since all jobs require just the right tool, she carefully tightened the loose screws.

Alas, having a screw loose wasn't the recalcitrant door's problem. It still wouldn't close. As before, it immediately popped back open when we pulled it shut.

"Hmmm," said Julie.

"Yeah. Hmmm," I answered.

We looked closely at all the scrapes, holes, and gouges up and down the door frame. It is an old door frame, so these imperfections are to be expected. There are probably marks on that door frame that go back to the 1950s. They are practically vintage.

"Check this out," I said, running my fingers along two particularly nasty looking horizontal gouges along the frame, adjacent to the metal plate Julie repaired.

"Wow!" answered Julie, running her own fingers in the grooves. "This looks like somebody tried to break in!"

"Oh my gosh! Yeah, it does," I replied, quickly looking around the room.

"Is anything missing?" Julie asked, looking alarmed. We looked at each other. This was not good.

"I don't think so, but who knows," I replied, turning my attention to the door itself. I began pushing on those protruding things that match the metal plate and are supposed to fit inside it when you close the door. They bounced back, which was a good thing. They were in working order.

"Hmmm," said Julie.

"Yeah. Hmmmm," I answered.

We pulled the door shut again and watched to see if we could get the metal door prongs into the hole in the metal doorplate.

"Oh, look," said Julie, "that's where the gouges come from."

It was clear that years of vigorously being pulled shut caused the gouges on the side of the door frame, two violent-looking parallel indentations. No attempted break-in, after all.

We gazed up - to the top of the door, noting that the door didn't shut up there either.

"Is Gary here?" Julie asked, referring to our trusty custodian who can fix just about anything.

"I don't think so," I said. "I think he's gone home for the day."

"Hmmm," said Julie.

"Yeah. Hmmm," I answered.

"Well," I said, after a pause. "I better tell Laura about this. She won't be able to alarm the building. She may have to call Gary and have him come back in."

"On a Friday night?" asked Julie. "Will he do that?"

"Yeah," I said with certainty, as if I knew for sure. "He will. He's a good guy."

"Okay," said Julie, walking towards her own classroom. "We tried. At least we tried."

"Yeah. We tried," I said, heading for the front door to find Laura, our night custodian. She is usually easy to spot since she pushes around a cart the size of a Fiat, loaded with buckets and mops and other large cleaning objects.

I located Laura across the Quad, in front of the first grade rooms. "Hey Laura," I called, "I need to let you know something!"

Laura emerged from one of the classrooms, holding a cleaning rag and looking at me inquisitively. Since I usually don't track her down to tell her important things, her curiosity was aroused.

"My classroom door won't close. Julie and I tried and tried. I just want you to know in case there is trouble with the alarm tonight."

"Which door is it?" asked Laura, heading for her cart.

"The back door," I reported.

I described in detail for Laura the problem of the recalcitrant door. She nodded, the grabbed a broom. We walked back towards my classroom. I wondered about the broom and worried that she might bang it on something to make the door close.

"Julie and I thought maybe somebody tried to break in," I said breathlessly, "But we realized it was just marks from the door lock thingy - hitting the doorframe. Then, Julie fixed the loose door plate with her room key," I added. "We really tried to fix this and not bother you," I said with pride and enthusiasm.

Laura said nothing.

"Since Gary isn't here, I thought it best to let you know," I said, as we entered my classroom from the front door. "We don't want any alarm trouble tonight. Do you think we need to call him? Or can somebody from maintenance come over?"

Laura didn't say anything. She approached the door and pushed it open, then looked down at the door jamb, where the door meets the threshhold. There was a rock, sitting right against the threshhold, effectively blocking the closure of the door.

Laura expertly wielded her broom and swept away the offending object. Then she pulled the door closed. It stayed that way.

My embarrassment was complete. To her credit, Laura only smiled, and opened the door again to sweep away some sand, pebbles, and chalk dust.

"Oh GAWD Laura... I am so sorry," I mumbled, unable to look her in the eye.

Julie came over and stood next to me. "Did you fix it?" she asked Laura. "What was wrong with it?"

Laura said nothing. She just smiled and finished her sweeping, then grinned at me and left the room.

"It was a rock. A boulder, really," I said, shuffling my feet and feeling quite stupid.

"A rock?" asked Julie. "Just a rock?"

"Yeah."

"Hmmm," said Julie, turning around to leave.

"Yeah," I replied. "Hmmm."