There are crickets in every corner of the school I teach in. They serenade me as I walk in the morning, and sing a gospel song of praise as I walk out at night. At first I found that the chirping was slightly surreal and was convinced it was in my head. But a few fellow teachers have confirmed that, yes, crickets inhabit our building.

The other day one wandered into my classroom. My students started squealing and gesticulating with their arms in the middle of a lesson. I, being calm and serene like a swan, glided over gracefully. I found a cricket about the size of a Hummer. I was about to squash it with my dainty teacher foot when twenty small voices screamed in terror. "NO! Don't kill it! We want it for a class pet."

A class pet cricket. Oy.

Not wanting to scar my children for life, I refrained from mutilating the small creature into the tile. Instead, I placed a plastic cup over him with promises that I would bring a suitable container for our "pet" tomorrow.

Leroy, which my students proceeded to name him, sang miserably all afternoon. He was clearly not content stuck under the Dora the Explorer dixie cup. Every so often I saw the cup moving forward slightly, obviously Leroy, the Hum-V cricket, had plans of his own. The students came in from lunch and asked if Leroy was okay. They came in from recess in a panic, sure that I had squashed their precious pet.

Of course I hadn't, but I had to prove this to them by lifting the cup a sliver so one of the students could witness to the others that I was being honest. Ha.

He continued to sing pitifully after the kids had left and Leroy and I were alone in the classroom. As a matter of principle, I did leave the cricket alone. I left it under the cup, on the floor, planning to bringing a large tupperware the next day to be his dwelling place. When I returned to school however, I found his Dora dixie cup on the counter face up and a small black smear on the ground where Leroy had been.
I hadn't left any directions for the janitor to leave the cup alone. He probably thought I was just too much of a delicate creature to dispose of my own tank sized crickets. Alas, poor Leroy.

As the students came in the room, they all inquired after their Leroy. "He escaped last night," I told them. "The janitor probably picked up the cup, and he hopped away."

"Are you sure you didn't kill him?" they asked accusingly. And of course I could answer with complete honesty that I hadn't. I even displayed the tupperware that was to be Leroy's abode. I comforted them with the fact that Leroy would not be the last cricket to come to our classroom for a visit.

As I was walking down the hallways later that afternoon, I noticed one of those motivational posters on the wall. "Take time to smell the roses."
I felt that a more accurate expression for this particular school should be, "Take time to listen to the crickets."
Here's lookin' at you Leroy. May you continue to serenade disgruntled teachers in heaven.