So last week, my students were huddled in a corner of the classroom – obviously conspiring. I ambled over in an eavesdropping fashion marched over at once to put a stop to the chatter and discovered that they were planning a Valentine’s gift exchange. They asked me if I wanted to participate, and I said, “sure.” They were so shocked that I began to wonder if I had misunderstood and pledged fealty to some unknown Mexican valentine’s day cult. But no. I had simply agreed to draw a name for my gift recipient. They called me over a few moments later and asked me to pick one of three tightly wadded pieces of paper. I picked one. I walked back to my desk and opened it, only to find that it read – my own name.
I told no one. But yesterday they confronted me about it. It was quite funny, actually. They were very reluctant to accuse me of anything so heinous as cheating, but apparently whatever system they used caused someone else to have drawn their own name, and, really, my selfishness could not be borne.
So today we hade a hyped-up-on-chocolate good-for-nothing sort of a day.
Oh well.

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