As You Like It: Late Again

Being late while stuck in Monday morning traffic is aggravation to the hundredth power. And it’s especially rotten when you can’t blame anyone else because it’s your own fault since you’re suffering from an attack of driver-hubris. That’s when you’re so sure you’ll arrive on time because it’s not rush hour and the moon is in the seventh house. That was me, oh so cocky because, after all, the conference didn’t start until 10.

I convinced myself that I had plenty of time and didn’t have to rush. It’s such a familiar scenario. You plan to leave at 9, then you get involved in a newspaper article, or your stocking rips, or you look in the mirror and you can’t imagine why you ever thought that sweater would match those pants, and before you know it you’re late before you’re even out the door.

But I was still optimistic since that morning I’d be traveling on back roads, not traffic-clogged highways.  And that’s how it begins — you’re certain you’ll make it and then about halfway into the trip you realize that you were only fooling yourself. Back roads notwithstanding, there is traffic; in fact, there are so many I-have-all-the-time-in-the-world meandering drivers that you’re ready to shoot someone’s tires off. And because you’re on back roads there are no passing lanes, but there are plenty of traffic lights, 20-mile speed limits and even a cat that saunters across the road.

So your situation goes from: No problem, I’m going to be on time, to: Problem, I am going to be late, to: Just how late am I going to be? Ten-minutes-not-too-terribly late or 20-minutes-you’re-so-pathetic-can’t-you-get-your-life-together late?!”

That’s where I was that Monday morning, wondering how I was going to sneak in quietly. I tried to dredge up a plausible excuse — after all, I’d heard some doozies in my life, but all I could come up with were some not-to-be-used-unless-desperate gems. Such as:

Student: “I can’t get up on time.”

Me: “Have you tried an alarm clock?”

Student: “A what?”

Me: “A clock that rings or sings at whatever time you set it so that you can get up on time in the morning.”

Student: “Oh, you mean like the thing on my phone?”

Me: “Yes, yes,” I answer, really excited that he has caught on, actually knows what I’m talking about, and has the technology to wake himself up.

Student: “Oh yeah, well I can’t use it because I have to turn off my phone to recharge it at night, man.”

At that point I usually put my head down on my desk and sigh. I’ve heard about traffic, late buses, sick kids, rain, snow, sun, ice, cold, heat, probation officers, social workers, and doctor visits — reputable excuses all, but tiring after a while. I was longing for some originality and yesterday I got it in spades. When Tameka walked in 45 minutes late, I looked at her quizzically — expecting the usual excuses, but she managed to surprise me.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, but I was up all night because my dog was in labor and had 12 puppies.”

The entire class applauded.

“But it’s true!” she sputtered! It’s not that we didn’t believe her, especially after the graphic description that she gave us afterwards. We were simply acknowledging her originality. It’s not often that you get such art.

Sometimes the “Why are you late?” conversations turn into teachable moments. One student kept showing up an hour late every day despite all the warnings we gave her. Finally, I spoke with her to try and remedy the situation. I started slowly:

“Kayla, what time is class in the morning?”
She looked at me as if it was a trick question.

“Uh, 9 o’clock?”

“Correct! How long does it take you to get to school?” I asked next.

“About 45 minutes.”

“Okay, we’re doing great here. So what time do you leave the house every morning?”

“Nine o’clock.”

“Okay, I can see the problem now. Do you travel to school each morning by teleporter? Are you beamed down from a space ship?”

She looked at me as if I had grown another head, but I persevered.

“Well, if you’re traveling the usual way, like by bus, doesn’t it take you some time to actually travel on the bus to get here? Let’s look at this as if it were a math problem.” And God bless her she set the problem up perfectly, subtracting 45 minutes from 9, which brought her to 8:15.

“So what you’re saying is that I should leave my house at 8:15 to get here on time?” she asked.

I concurred and then suggested that she actually leave at 8, thereby giving her a cushion in case the bus was late. She’s been fine ever since.

So as I sat there, stuck behind an SUV filled with kids and puppies, I wondered if I could use the my-dog-was-in-laborexcuse. But then I realized that I might make it on time. And eureka, the traffic gods were indeed smiling on me, and there was even a parking spot right at the front door so I was two minutes early. It was a relief professionally, but part of me was sorry that I didn’t get to try out the dog in labor excuse. The applause would have been great.

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Posted by Joan Florek Schottenfeld on Dec 23 2010. Filed under As You Like It, Opinion. Both comments and pings are currently closed.