Two days ago I locked my keys in my car. I got to school early -- I had things to set up, papers to photocopy, tea to drink. I turned off the car, put the keys in my bag. Slid out of the car, pushing down the lock as I did, stepped out to zip up my jacket and -- the door just closed behind me. Desperate clutching at the handle, shaking, pulling. Locked. Infuriatingly loose. Stubbornly stuck.
I got a wire hanger from the staff room, convinced I could get it open quickly. Fumbling. Balancing. Cursing. The worst part? My thermos of tea was stuck inside.
I had to give up and go back inside to get my things ready and teach my first class. Finally the first seventy-five minute period was over and I had a prep.
I went out armed with two wire hangers. Two of the boys in my grade 12 English class had a spare period and spotted me in the parking lot on their way to get pizza. I was happy that they stayed with me and tried to help me get the car open. They stood on the other side of my little Ford Escort as I wiggled the wire hanger around.
"Oh, Miss, you're so close!"
"Just a little bit this way, Miss, yup... nope, now it's stuck, Miss..."
Finally one of them brightened.
"I know who can help us!"
He ran inside the building and came back with a notorious pothead. Quietly and respectfully, he took the hanger from me, curled the end of it into a tighter hook, expertly manoeuvred it. The car was open in three minutes.
"Do I want to know -- how do you know how to do that so fast?" I asked him.
He smiled. "I ... lock my keys in my car a lot, Miss..."
I reached into the car to get bag, to retrieve my cold tea. I turned around to thank him and he was gone, his skinny figure running back into the school.
"He has to go back to class," one of the other boys said.
"He was in class?" Whoops.
He disappeared through the doors. Like Batman. I don't care what others think of him -- that day he was my hero.
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