THE ANSWER IS BLOWING IN THE WIND

Yesterday I received a kite—prison term for a letter written on prisoner stationary—from a former classroom tutor stating why he had been late for class, repeatedly. I’m not talking about a few minutes here or there, I’m talking forty-five minutes to an hour. After numerous warnings that his job was in jeopardy, I wrote a "036 Out of Place / AWOL" ticket and terminated his employment. He never did his job anyway. He usually sat with his back to everyone and read magazines. Did he think he was an ostrich?—Stick your head in the sand and hope no one would notice? Once in awhile I’d say, "Mr. Hartford, the students are behind you, how about taking some time out of your busy schedule and helping them?" He’d go into his thousand questions mode. "Who needs help? What’re they working on? Where are the answer keys? Do you have a ballpoint pen I can borrow? I need a calculator to figure their scores, can I get one? Can you show me how to subtract unlike fractions so I can show the students how to do it? Class is ending soon, do you think there’s enough time for me to help them?" It never ended.

In all fairness, I decided to post Mr. Hartford’s kite in its entirety. Perhaps it will shed some light onto his tardiness. Here it is:

Dear Sir,
This is in regards to my absences. I was prescribed to a medication causing drowsiness which resulted in me developing a sleep dependency, and when I signed off on this medication, I began to incur sleep withdrawal, where, on a consistent basis I couldn’t fall asleep until 3 a.m. being the cause of my inability to wake up in time for 7:25 a. m. school. I know that there’s no excuse for my behavior, but these repetitive acts of absences were not motivated on the basis of foul intentions, and if you may, I would appreciate your consideration in pulling the "Out of Place" misconduct.

Here is my answer to his kite (assuming I’d answer such a ridiculous explanation):

Dear Mr. Hartford,
First of all, why would I renege on a ticket I deliberately wrote? If I give you an inch in this here prison system, you will make me look softer than Dairy Queen ice-cream on a sweltering-hot day. Also, once I pull the ticket, you will demand that I give you your job back since there is no longer a record of your past actions. You obviously must think I’m a guppy—a little fish amongst the sharks. Do you want to know what I think of you? Do you? I don’t. I don’t have the time. Good day and good riddance. By the way, your health care needs are still covered. Go back on your medication and sweet dreams.