How Is Photosynthesis Going For You?

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you these important news briefings:

First, Emily is beginning to think she has spent too much time in the dorm. I came to this conclusion this morning, when I awoke from a horrible nightmare in which I was taking an English Language Proficiency Test and failing horribly. The test consisted of one word; 'hegemony'. I couldn't for the life of me remember what 'hegemony' meant, and I was sweating and panicking and shuffling through sheets and sheets of papers, none of which gave me any help. I also remember running to the bathroom and splashing water on my face in a desperate attempt to wake myself up, but I just ran out of time. Also, it was the same bathroom that I remember clearly from Xavier High School in Brooklyn, where I took the SATs.

Second, I think we just had an earthquake. I was sitting here in my apartment, like I do, and suddenly there was a great shaking sensation, kind of like the feeling you get when the subway passes underneath the sidewalk you are standing on, but a really BIG subway train. Anyway, I'm fine, everything's fine, but the school bells were ringing like mad and all the kids came out for an earthquake drill, which is kind of like a fire drill in that everyone stands outside for a while.

Third, I must share this unique dorm experience from last night. Some nights in the dorm are calm and unextraordinary. Last night was not one of those nights.

8pm I arrive in the dining hall for the beginning of my shift in the dorm. While eating spaghetti I converse with a diverse group of kids, including an International Baccalaureate student and an inquisitive set of Greek eighth graders. It was a routine dinner chat, in which the IB student told us all about her previous experience in another boarding school. This led to a conversation about boarding schools around the world, and many a Harry Potter reference was made. When one of the eighth graders remarked that he has a classmate who cries when she doesn't get 100% on every test, I laughed and said "Oh, that's so silly!"
"Why?" he wanted to know.
"Because," I explained. "There's more to life than school! Some extremely succesful people have even flunked out of school."
He looked scandalized. "So," he asked, nervously, "Are there people who do really well in school and are not successful in life?"
"Well, sure."
"Who?" This appeared to be earth-shattering news.
"Well," I said, "I don't know. They aren't necessarily famous people."
The poor kid looked a little stunned, and I felt bad for him. It's so easy, when you're in middle school, to think that your eighth grade test scores are going to have such a huge influence on your entire life. It's so easy, when you're in high school, to think that your SAT scores are going to determine everything. If only that were true. I did damn well on the SATs. And what are they good for now? They give me horrible dreams about hegemony.
The other bit of information I gleaned from this conversation was that in Greek, someone who studies too much (a Hermione Granger sort, to continue the Harry Potter train of thought) is called a "plant" because they don't ever move, just sit and study. Apparently, if you want to tease a Greek who is too studious, you say "So, how is photosynthesis going for you?" I think this is perhaps the most hilarious thing I have heard all year.
But anyway, on to the real excitement of the evening.
At 9:30 I was in the dorm office, helping a seventh grader with English homework, when the phone rang. The caller wanted to speak to one of my co-workers, and I went to retrieve him from the dining room, where he was the study hall proctor.
I stood in the dining room for a few minutes while my co-worker went to answer the phone, and I suddenly heard a big CRASH-BANG above me, as if something had crashed through the roof, but was still above the ceiling. The crash-bang was following by a scampering sound, which moved around the ceiling for several moments. I seemed to be the only one who was alarmed by this, however.
Ten minutes later I was continuing with English homework when I heard a loud burst of giggles and gasps from the dining hall. Seventh Grader and I decided to investigate, and observed the other dorm advisor standing a chair banging on the ceiling. "Mouse," he explained.
Five minutes later we heard ANOTHER bang and returned to find a ceiling tile in pieces on the floor and my c0-worker peering into the ceiling. No mouse was retrieved, and the ceiling tile was replaced.
Study hall ended soon after, but there was still something running around up there."Too big to be a mouse," one kid told me. "Must be a cat." "I thought it got electrocuted," another kid remarked. "It walked over the light, and the light flickered."However, it was definitely still alive, as the next fifteen minutes involved a series of middle schoolers running in circles through the dining hall, following the scampering noises from one side of the room to the other. It was well after ten when the intruder was actually spotted through a skylight, and a fifteen year old pointed and shrieked "IT CHICKEN! IT CHICKEN!"
Immediately, the word spread that we had a chicken (κοτοπουλο) in the ceiling. I have not seen many chickens on the premises, and suspected it might be a different sort of bird. However, 'chicken' stuck, and kids started shrieking things about avian flu. I tried to get everyone to vacate the premises and leave some experienced person to get the chicken out of the ceiling, but the entire scene proved too exciting to abandon.

In the end, I don't know what happened to the intruder; I was too busy putting kids to bed to watch the events unfold. I assume it was either removed or found its way out. I'm just thanking myself that it wasn't a repeat of the last time a wayward animal wandered into the dorm; that particular creature is currently sitting in my window, possibly on the lookout for "chickens".