The Adults did WHAT?!

Join host Lisa Hill as she unwraps a few stories about the strange, surprising, and downright baffling things adults do - because while the kids may get a little wild, it’s the grown-ups you really have to watch.

And their stories prove the same truth: fact is always stranger than fiction. 

Realtor Janae Griffith
Janae Griffith has 19 years experience in buying and selling homes in Central Iowa.

Wee's Tees
Custom prints done right—Wee’s Tees brings your vision to life on and off the field.

Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.

Vice Principal UnOfficed website has moved! Boomark my new site: https://viceprincipalunofficed.com/

Email me: vpunofficed@gmail.com

Check out photos from each Vice Principal UnOfficed episode at:

• Instagram
• Facebook

Resources used for Vice Principal UnOfficed can be found here.

Thanks for listening!

#KeepLaughing&Learning

Chapters

• 0:00 Sponsor Messages
• 1:41 Theme Setup: Adults Are The Wild Cards
• 3:06 Educator Burnout And Breaks
• 4:13 Testing Pressure And Cheating Context
• 6:22 District Testing Drop-Off Debacle
• 10:23 The Lice Visit That Went Off-Script
• 14:19 The Remote Control Rebellion
• 18:43 Secret Loft Above The Auto Shop
• 21:22 Blizzard Dumpster And Personal Docs
• 24:35 Pandemic Sanitizer Install Gone Wrong
• 29:00 Reflections, Sign-Offs, And Teaser

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:18

Vice Principal in Office is brought to you with support from our sponsors. Looking for a home in the Greater Des Moines area? With over 19 years in the real estate business, Janae Griffith has the expertise and dedication to help you find that special place to call home. The kind of home where you can drop your bags, exhale, and say, Yes, this is mine. Whether you're buying or selling, Janae Griffith is making it the home for you. Visit Janae, that's J-A-N-A-E at JanaeGriffith.com to get started. Looking for custom team gear or standout promo apparel? Wheeze Tease is your one-stop shop for high-quality, high-impact prints. Based in Ankone, Iowa, Wheeze Tease provides dependable in-house service from screen printing to DTF transfers to heat press work, all done with a passion for precision. Wheeze Tease turns your ideas into gear that performs on and off the field. So head to Wheeze Tease and customize your apparel for your grind, your game, and your glory. Get started today at Wheeze Tease.com. On this episode of Vice Principal Unoffist, join me, your host Lisa Hill, as I wrap up a few stories about the strange, surprising, and downright baffling things adults do. Because while the kids may get a little wild, it's the grown-ups you really have to watch. And every story proves the same truth. Fact is always stranger than fiction. So let's jump in and get laughing and learning. Attention students, I mean listeners. The stories in this podcast are told from the host's personal and farcical point of view. All names and identifiers have been omitted or altered to protect identities. Now get to class and enjoy the show. Hello folks, thanks for tuning in to another episode of Vice Principal Unofficed. I don't know about you, but I am officially three days away from a two-week winter break. And let me tell you, it is a very well-earned winter break. Honestly, I hope every K-12 educator out there gets a full two-week vacation. You deserve it, every bit of it, and trust me, I know. Now, for the people who have never worked in public schools and only know school from their days as a student, it can be easy to assume teaching is a simple job. But let me tell you, it isn't, not even close, which is exactly why winter break isn't just a holiday for educators, it's a full-on survival mechanism. And if you've listened to this podcast before, you already know the sheer volume of wild, unbelievable, did that really happen, moments that hit us during a school year. Educators need breaks so we can recharge, reset, and mentally prepare to repeat it all again. But here's the twist. Some adults in our schools, teachers, parents, support staff, you name it, probably need a break long before winter break even shows up. Because as you'll hear in this episode, some of the things grown-ups do will make you say, wait, they did what? Which is why I titled this episode The Adults Did What? Of course I really wanted to call this episode. Trying to lead a school would be much easier if the adults who worked in the school actually did some work because some days the employees are harder to manage than the kids. Because it's true. Some of the adults working in public schools provide some real head scratchers, the kind that leaves me saying, you just can't make this shit up. Lisa Ann, you're making me rethink my motherhood. Right on cue, mom. But let me tell you a few stories to see if you actually agree with me. Thanks to the U.S. Department of Education, which has been restructured more times than a middle school lunch schedule, standardized testing was everywhere in the 1990s and early 2000s. In fact, some schools started teaching to the test, hoping to nudge those test scores just high enough to stay out of trouble. And yes, some educators even found themselves in hot water for altering student answers. Which leads me to ask, what level of desperation does an educator have to reach to start changing test scores? Well, thanks to No Child Left Behind, accountability skyrocketed for schools overnight. According to author Kathy Coach, our states increasingly tied test scores to real consequences. School ratings, state interventions, staff firings, and even cash bonuses. And as those stakes rose, so did the number of adults accidentally on purpose, coaching during tests, changing student answers, or strategically choosing which students actually took the exam. Sounds crazy, right? But get this, I worked for a district that managed to mess up testing in a completely different way. One year, this district hired a brand new teaching and learning director, more as some places call it, a curriculum director. Public schools love creative job titles, but that's a whole separate episode. Anyway, this guy talked a big game, but delivered very little when it came to the actual logistics of standardized testing. He toured every school building telling teachers how vital it was that we administer testing with absolute fidelity. And at this point, most educators were terrified of even sneezing during state testing week because of all the scandals happening across the country. And Mr. Teaching and Learning made it very clear we were not going to be part of the Cheaters Club. His warnings came down with the dramatic energy of a man who had read exactly a few lines of a standardized test security manual and decided he was an expert. Remember, 20 plus years ago, standardized testing meant Scantron sheets, number two pencils, and hand cramps. Chromebooks weren't even a thing yet, and most schools were lucky if the computer lab even worked. Testing felt like a marathon. One full week of the main test, another week for the makeups, and then when the students were finally done bubbling circles, the counselor shoved stacks of test booklets and scantron sheets into giant cardboard boxes and ship them off to the district office like we were sending out top secret government documents. Now, this is the point in the story where you're going to say, he did what? After testing wrapped up, our new teaching and learning director instructed all the counselors to drive to the district office and drop off their completed test boxes at the district loading dock. Sounded simple enough. Though I have to question how the man who had time to lecture every teacher in the district about testing fidelity could not be bothered to pick the boxes up himself. But whatever. None of us wanted to be accused of cheating, so we followed his directions exactly. The testing was over, life went back to normal. Now, fast forward about six weeks, I got a call from the district office secretary asking where our student tests were because we had officially missed the state submission window, and we were now in danger of being penalized. I told the secretary that I had dropped them off at the loading dock, just like the teaching and learning director told us to. There was silence on the other end of the phone. The kind of silence where you can practically hear someone staring into the abyss. Turned out the teaching and learning director forgot the very instructions he gave us, and completely missed the state mandated deadline. And of course, he never owned it, blamed everything and everyone except the one person actually responsible. Himself. Eventually, the district did receive our test results, but by then it didn't matter. They showed up so late that we were already knee deep in a new school year prepping for another round of standardized testing. So much for not leaving children behind. Now, if you like that story, here's another one for you about a mom. Which took this situation from typical to uniquely complicated. Our school nurse told me that the standard over-the-counter head lice treatment couldn't be used because some of the chemicals weren't safe during pregnancy. So she handed me this sheet of paper with chemical-free instructions on how to get rid of the lice safely. I'm still not sure what possessed me next. Maybe it was the mom and me, maybe it was my early career optimism. But with the blessing of the principal, I offered to drive the student home so I could explain to her mother how to treat the lice safely. Today that would be a giant no-no, but back then, I honestly thought I was just helping. So the teenager and I pull into a trailer court. We walk up a couple steps and step inside her home. And immediately I find myself staring at her mother on a Haida bed with a man, both completely naked and not even attempting to adjust the situation. There they were in all their glory. I backed out of that trailer so fast, I swear my feet didn't touch a single step. My whole body said, Absolutely not. The girl stayed inside, whining to her mom that I needed to talk to her. And after what felt like an eternity, the girl opened the door and motioned me back in like she was inviting me to a PTA meeting, instead of, well, what was ever happening in there? So I took a deep breath and stepped inside again. Because apparently nothing, not even surprised nudity, was going to stop me from delivering those head lice instructions. Okay, here's where you say she did what? Yep. The mom did not get up. She did not grab clothes. She didn't even adjust the situation. She just pulled a blanket up over herself, except for one bare shoulder, and carried on a completely normal conversation with me. It was at this point I thought to myself, well, if she's not embarrassed, I guess I'm not embarrassed either. Meanwhile, the man in the bed simply pulled the covers up over his head, exposing his bare feet at the end of the hida bed, because clearly he wasn't going anywhere. Anyway, as I'm wrapping up instructions with the mom and the daughter on how to treat the head lice, I glance up and notice a framed picture hanging above the hida bed. It said, We'll work for weed, and suddenly everything about that trailer made perfect sense. I then handed over the paper, wished them luck, and got myself right back to school. So that was one unforgettable moment in my career. One of those stories you keep retelling because there is no way anyone could make it up. Now let me tell you in a completely different direction and introduce you to a legend from one of the districts I worked in, the school librarian. You have to believe me when I say kids hated her and teachers hated her. I mean universally. This woman had the personality of a malfunctioning barcode scanner. If she smiled, it was probably in 1987 and no one saw it. But to really understand this librarian, you have to picture the era we were working in. This was back when checking out technology meant grabbing a TV on a rolling cart that clattered down the hallway like it needed an exorcism. And if a teacher wanted the TV, they also had to check out a remote. I swear this woman treated every piece of multimedia equipment like it was part of her personal flare pen collection. Everything was numbered, logged, tracked, and tucked away like she'd spent her entire career guarding it. Teachers and kids absolutely dreaded walking into that library. Approaching the librarian felt like asking a teenager to put their phone away. You might get compliance, but the bad attitude was guaranteed. And once you reached her desk, she'd peer over her glasses, ask you what you needed, and somehow make you feel like your perfectly reasonable request was ruining her afternoon. One day a teacher friend of mine had finally reached his breaking point. He checked out a TV cart, yes, TVs used to sit on giant wobbly carts, and then he took the remote assigned to him. And then he did the unthinkable. When the librarian turned around, he quietly slipped an extra remote into his pocket. A forbidden remote. And now we all say, he did what? He did. He took an extra remote. And this is where things become very entertaining, because the librarian noticed almost immediately, those remotes were cataloged like rare library artifacts, and the moment one didn't match her spreadsheet, the whole district went into crisis mode. Suddenly, we were getting memos, all staff announcements, emails begging, just begging for the return of the missing remote. Teachers were whispering in the hallways like we were part of a school-based crime documentary. The librarian was interrogating staff at her desk. Students were being questioned like someone had launched a black market remote operation out of the boys' locker room. Meanwhile, the teacher was sitting quietly in his classroom, using his contraband remote with the lights off and the door locked, like he was handling classified evidence. And the best part? The librarian never found it. That remote stayed missing the entire year. At least once a week, another memo or announcement went out pleading, again, for the return of the lost remote. And that teacher would just look at his desk, grin to himself, and keep teaching. It was hands down the pettiest, funniest act of staff rebellion I have ever witnessed. Speaking of strange things adults do, let me tell you about the time a vice principal discovered a hidden loft in the auto shop. Something no one, and I mean no one, knew existed. We had this auto teacher who'd been around for forever, the kind of guy who quietly clocked in, quietly taught his classes, quietly fixed whatever the kids broke, and quietly went home. He didn't gossip, he didn't complain, he never missed a day. Honestly, if he ever raised his voice, it must have been sometime in 1994 and no one documented it. After the auto teacher retired, the custodians went in to do their usual post-retirement clean out, which, let's be honest, meant sweeping around things, not under them. They weren't about to open drawers, move equipment, or dig through the chaos of a 20-year auto shop. Their motto was, if we can't see it, it's not dirty. But a few days later, the vice principal stopped by to actually look through the space. And that's when things got interesting. He noticed a ladder propped up near the parts of the storage area. Not unusual, until he realized it wasn't for reaching shelves. It led up into a dark corner of the ceiling no one had ever questioned. So he climbed it. And what did he find tucked away above the auto shop rafters? A full hidden loft. Not a little nook, a full on secret living space. There was a couch, like a real cushion. Couch, a mini fridge, an old TV that looked like it had survived Y2K, even a little lamp plugged into an extension cord that absolutely did not meet fire code. This man had built himself a private lounge above the muffler shelf, and not a soul in the building knew it existed. Now, this is absolutely the moment where you say he did what a teacher-only tree house where everything was arranged neatly. Couch left, TV does free, fridge stocked, like someone had planned to come back after retirement and grab a snack. He hadn't created chaos up there. He created peace, a hideaway, a sanctuary from teenagers who argued daily about whose fault it was the socket wrench disappeared again. And honestly, once you saw it, you couldn't blame him. Every educator has fantasized about having a place where the bells don't ring and no one asks you to sign the bathroom pass. He just took that dream and installed it in the ceiling. Now let me tell you about one of the stranger things I've seen a school employee do. And trust me, the competition is fierce. But this one involves a teacher, a snowstorm, and several full garbage bags. So picture this. Nope. This teacher decided that it was the perfect moment to load up his car with several giant overstuffed garbage bags of his own personal trash and drive them all the way to school. Behind the school building, we had two enormous outdoor dumpsters, the industrial kind the city empties with the forklift. And in the middle of this blizzard, this teacher pulls up, hops out, and starts tossing his personal garbage bags into them like he was taking out the trash at home. But get this. It also happened to be the one day when security actually checked the cameras. And who pops up on the screen? Not a raccoon, not a neighborhood kid, not even a random community member looking for a free dump spot. Nope. Security saw this teacher out there in white out conditions on a full-blown garbage dump mission. So what happened next? Security calls operations, operations goes to investigate, and of course they look inside the garbage bags, because nobody in a school setting has ever resisted the urge to look inside something suspicious. And what do they find? Not trash, not old worksheets, not even expired coupons. These garbage bags were filled with the teacher's private personal documents, medical papers, financial records, banking statements, pay stubs, tax forms, anything you'd normally keep locked in a filing cabinet at home. This teacher had stuffed his private personal documents into hefty bags and delivered them straight to the school dumpster like they were running a confidential document disposal service in the middle of a blizzard. And here's the part that still blows my mind. This teacher didn't even live in our town. He lived two towns away. So this man drove through a blizzard, passing who knows how many perfectly good public dumpsters, just to haul his personal garbage to the school. Who does that? Who wakes up during a winter storm and thinks, you know what? I'm gonna take my trash to work. And this, folks, is the moment where you say, he did what? Let me tell you what he did. Because, you know, every bizarre story needs a mysterious ending. So at the end of the school year, the teacher packed up his classroom, packed up his family, and moved out of state. Gone. No forwarding address, no explanation. Trash saga unsolved. Sometimes the students aren't the ones keeping you up at night. Sometimes it's the adults. Making choices, no one can explain. Now let me take you back to the pandemic era. Those early days when schools were just starting to welcome students and staff back into the building after months of lockdown. We were all nervous and figuring things out as we went. But every district was determined to convince people we had the germs under control. At least in theory. The district I worked in decided we were going to be extra prepared. And by extra, I mean they installed 300 wall-mounted hand sanitizer dispensers throughout my building. 300. It felt like we were opening an airport terminal, not a high school. Every wall, every doorway, every corner, every classroom, if there was a wall, it got a dispenser. And just to drive the point home, they also sent us a thousand reminder stickers to plaster everywhere. Use sanitizer, stay safe, wash your hands. I was required to put those stickers on everything. I swear, even the copyroom stapler was begging people to sanitize. Anyway, as students and teachers returned, everyone was being incredibly cautious. No one wanted to go back into lockdown, so people masked up, wiped down desks a few times a day, and tried to use those shiny new hand sanitizer dispensers. And I do mean they tried. You would see adults and kids waving their hands, elbows, and forearms under those dispensers like they were trying to activate some hidden safety mode. I finally called operations and said, hey, someone forgot to fill the dispensers. And that's when I learned the truth. Okay folks, this is your cue. They did what? The operations team had enough sanitizer to fill maybe 25 of those damn hand dispensers. 25. And a giant school with over 3,000 people in it. The rest of the dispensers sat bone dry, completely empty. Just fancy plastic wall decorations adorned with colorful stickers pretending to be helpful. The result? We had teachers hitting the dispensers over and over like they were trying to get their favorite candy bar unstuck from a vending machine, and kids slapping the bottoms of the things thinking the dispenser needed to warm up. Neither of them realizing we were dealing with 275 identical, completely useless hand dispensers. And me? Well, day after day I'd get reports that another dispenser was empty. Little did they know the dispensers were going to stay that way. The operations department eventually placed an order for hand sanitizer, but because they ordered it late, and the whole world was using it, the shipment didn't arrive until the end of the school year. Meaning 275 of those brand new, carefully installed, proudly stickered dispensers never saw a single ounce of sanitizer. Not one drop. We had a building full of empty machines silently mocking us for nine months straight. And the funniest part? Five years later, those stupid dispensers are still on the walls, empty, untouched, and apparently committed to their lifelong mission of doing absolutely nothing. If the pandemic taught us anything, it's that schools can pivot, adapt, and overcome. But remembering to order hand sanitizer? Apparently, this is not in our skill set. And that, my friends, brings us to the end of today's episode of Vice Principal Unoffist. We've covered a lot of ground, pregnant teens with head lice, a librarian guarding remotes like priceless artifacts, a teacher's secret loft in the ceiling, a snowstorm garbage drop-off, and 300 empty hand sanitizer dispensers installed with great enthusiasm and absolutely no follow-through. If there's one thing this episode proves, it's that schools are not powered by policies or procedures. They are powered by people. And sometimes those people make choices that leave you staring into the middle distance, asking yourself, they did what working in schools means you get a front row seat to human behavior in all its glory. The good, the baffling, the hilarious, and the please tell me I didn't just see that. And honestly, that's what makes this work so unforgettable. Because while the kids keep us on our toes, it's the adults who give us the stories we'll be telling for decades. So whether you're an educator, a parent, a student, or someone who wandered into this podcast by accident, thank you for hanging out with me, laughing with me, and shaking your head right along with me. Make sure you tune in next time because I promise the stories only get weirder from here. Until then, stay safe, stay sane, and remember, schools don't need aliens or Bigfoot to have mysteries. We've got adults who make us say, they did what? Well, kids, the dismissal bell is ringing, so until next time on Vice Principal Unoffice, push in your chair, put your name on your paper, be kind to your classmates, put your phone away, and use your indoor voice. Or not, thanks for listening. And I hope you enjoyed the tales from Vice Principal Unoffice as much as I enjoyed sharing them. And it is also my hope that you were not only entertained by this episode, but that you walked away with a little nugget of knowledge that gave you some insight on how working in a school is not for the faint of heart. And as I've said before, life is short, so you gotta do the best you can to leave the world in a better place than when you got here. And of course, for the love of God, see the humor in life. It's a lot more fun and a little easier to get through the ickin life with a smile on your face. Catch you next time on Vice Principal on Office. Next time on Vice Principal on Office, join me, your host, Lisa Hill, as I dive into the wonderfully chaotic world of school parents. The emails, the phone calls, the parking lot drama, and the moments that leave you wondering how some of these adults survived childhood and are now raising kids of their own. So tune in December 30th for Dear Parents, We Need to Talk. Because if you think students keep things interesting, wait until you hear what their parents do. Hey students, I mean listeners. Thanks again for tuning in. And if you've enjoyed today's show, please leave me a review. It really helps grow the show. And don't forget to hit the follow button so you don't miss an episode. Trust me, you don't want to be late for this detention. And listeners, if you've got a school story of your own that you think would fit Vice Principal on Office, I'd love to hear it. Just head to my podcast website and send me your story. And who knows, your story might even get a shout out in a future episode. Thanks so much for listening and for your support. Vice Principal on Office is an independent podcast with everything you hear done by me, Lisa Hill, and supported through BuzzSprout. Any information from today's show, along with any links and resources, are available in the show's notes. So if you want to do a little homework and dive deeper into anything I've mentioned, head over to my podcast website and check it out. And a big thank you to Matthew Chiam with Pixabay for the show's marvelous theme music. And of course, a huge shout out to my mother. This podcast is for the purpose of entertainment only, like the recess of your day, and not a platform for debates about public education. Though you never know, you can learn something. And just a reminder that the stories shared in this podcast represent one lens, which is based on my personal experiences and interpretations, and also reflect my unique perspective through humor. Names, dates, and places have been changed or omitted to protect identities and should not be considered universally applicable. Until next time, keep laughing and learning.