Ding, ding, da-ding, ding!

Pinball Machine by Karl Kaktus via Flickr CC by NC-2.0

Pinball machines.

Remember those? I have memories of being sent into the 7-11 (in the nicer part of the town where I grew up) or “Little Jim’s” (in the less nicer area) to purchase cigarettes for my mom who didn’t want to get out of the car. In either store, there was that “ding, ding, da-da-ding, ding, ding!” coming from a corner of the store. The pinball machine.

Pete Townshend even wrote a song about the wizarding aspects of pinballing.

I, however, am not a wizard, though I hear the “ding, ding, da-da-ding, ding” in my head a lot lately. Only it really sounds more like:

“Snider, can you edit my story?”

“Snider, only four people met their deadline today. See if you can talk to the others.”

“Hey, I sold an ad, but I have to go to class. Can you take this?”

RRrrrrriiiiiinnnggg ….

“Snider, you want me to get the phone?”

“What are we doing today?” (this as newspaper goes out and intro to journalism comes in)

I forgot to go to the bathroom last hour. Wonder if I have time before the bell? That’s me in the Italics.

“Mrs. Snider, I’m not going to be here next week. Can I have my work?”

“Snider, can you write me a pass? I was downloading my pics of volleyball.”

“Who left their stuff? Can I even sit here?”

“Snider, lady on the phone wants to know if she bought a yearbook, and if not, do you have any left?”

Over the intercom: “MRS. SNIDER, CAN YOU SEND SALLY JANTZ TO THE OFFICE TO GO HOME, PLEASE?”

Attendance. I need to do attendance. What am I doing with these guys today?

“Mrs. Snider, you want us to finish what we were working on yesterday?”

“Yeah, do that.”

“I can’t do mine. Jimmy has our notes and he’s not here today. What do you want me to do?”

Knock on the door. Because we have to keep them locked now. Thanks, Adam Lanza.

“Snider, can you write a note for me? My 8th hour counted me absent yesterday, but you asked me to cover volleyball practice. I downloaded the pics last hour, remember? Oh, and I shared my story in your folder. Have you looked at it yet?”

Knock on the door.

“Mrs. Snider, I never got my senior pictures in the mail. The office said to check with you?”

“Ding, ding, ding, da-da-da-ding, ding….”