What Father Tim says, goes

Friday was a "Mass day" at the private school, so the bell schedule was altered to accommodate for an hour-long Mass in the morning. My first period class assembled in the classroom and made their way to the gymnasium as they were dismissed over the PA system. In the meantime, I debated with my 7th graders as to the importance of my attendance at Mass.

Me: So what do teachers do while you guys are at Mass?
7th graders: They go to Mass, too. Are you Catholic?
Me: Nope.
7th graders: Well, I guess you don't have to go.
Me: Okay, sounds good. Make sure you grab a hymnal on your way out; I'll be here when you guys return!

I proceeded to knock out the lights and manage a comfortable recline on a beanbag chair in the corner of my room. It wasn't 10 minutes later that I shot out of the beanbag to the harmonious sounds of Mass coming through the back wall. As it turns out, my classroom was adjacent to the gym. I was certain God was spiting me for napping through his Mass. I was finally able to catch some Zzz's to the sweet sounds of "Our God is an awesome God" pulsating through the wall. I set my alarm for a few minutes before the kids were to return.

When they did, I was sitting alert at my desk with all the lights on, ready to take on 7th grade mathematics. "What did you do during Mass?" one asked innocently. I told her I took a nap on the purple beanbag. It was mostly for laughs, but also because I'm stupid. It would later come back to haunt me. The kids made their way back into their seats and got to work on a math inequalities worksheet. Toward the end of the period, I informed them that the worksheet would be homework if they did not finish.

"NO! Father Tim said we couldn't have homework this weekend!" barked one girl.
"I don't know who that is or why he has authority over me," I fired back at her. "But your teacher left specific instructions about the worksheet being homework."
"Father Tim is in charge of the school," said one little smart alec in the corner. "The teachers have to do what he says."

At this point, I was totally befuddled. To me the whole proposition made no sense. Why would the overseeing priest intentionally buck the plans of every teacher in the school? He must not have said it, or if he did, he had to be kidding. I just went with my substitute instinct on this one: The kids are always trying to pull crap on you.

"Well, your teacher left this assignment as homework. If Father Tim's word is gold, then you won't have to worry when Monday comes and your homework isn't done. In the meantime, you can't argue that I didn't tell you about the assignment for Monday."

The class became immediately combative. They also became 100% smarter than I thought 7th graders could be.

"We're going to tell (the teacher) and (the principal) that you slept on the beanbag instead of going to Mass," said one little twerp.
"Yeah, there's cameras in here," added another. "They're going to catch you."

I tried to laugh it off. It didn't work.

"I think you can get fired for that," repeated the same kid.

Oh, crap.

"Come on, guys. What do you think teachers do during their prep periods?" I tried to defend myself.
"They do e-mail! And grade papers!" exclaimed two little girls at once.

Now the whole class was after me.

"NO!" I was trying desperately to defend myself. "They take naps! Everyone does it!"

That was bologna. I knew it, and they knew it. I gave in. I had to.

"Okay, fine. No homework for Monday. I'll write down that Father Tim gave direct orders for it."

The class erupted. The bell rang.

With any luck, I'll never see any of those little monsters, again.