That old catastrophe

Tutoring has more public relations facets than I ever knew. This morning Zenobia, Zapata and I went to the guidance office for our formal tutoring briefing. The computer geeks were there, too. I asked Case, who I knew from history class, what he and the rest of the geeks were there for. "Same as you, I guess. At risk for antisocial behaviour, and strange internet habits." The guidance team came in right then and asked us to sit down.
"Welcome, borderline hostile students. Today R. P. Boire is going to put your misguided research skills and computer expertise to use for the common good. And, to start with, one of our more prominent students, Rebecca McGuire, is in need of a tutor, and in fact expressed that very desire recently in front of one of her fellow students, April Patterson."
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"That's classified school board information, young lady. As I said, Miss McGuire needs a tutor, and one of you will be that tutor." We were sitting a bit uncomfortably at that point. Then the guidance head pointed at Case. "You, you in the iPod. Turn that damn thing off, and get over here. You're tutoring Miss McGuire." Case went over to the guidance team and got a binder full of English class notes and Becky McGuire's class schedule. The rest of us were ushered into the library, where we had to sign up for hours at the "Learning Resources Centre" (a table near the leaky radiator). For some reason, only Case had a single student to tutor.