I am a longtime advocate for more use of technology in Education.  I get very excited when I see the potential that technology has for our students; particularly those students with disabilities.  On the other hand, it has been well documented that my personal skills with technology are seriously delayed. 

I have sought help.  I took a summer course in technology for beginners and an adult evening course (MAC for Dummies)….twice.  Still, I am not a technology geek, by any stretch of the imagination.  This is a sensitive area for me when my co-educators often joke that I am technology disabled. 

On the first in-service day of this year, one of my high school teachers, Dave (not his real name) said to me “When are you going to learn how to use e-mail?  When you get a message that was sent to multiple people, you always e-mail your reply to everyone on the list.  There is a simple “reply to sender” logo.” 

I was quick to answer, “Well, I used to do that, but not any more.  I now only “reply to sender”.  This made all of my teachers laugh hysterically (although they laughed at me with a lot of respect) and I knew they were not believing me.  So I said, “Alright, the next time I send a multiple reply, I will bring you a pie”.  “Oh Boy” they shouted.  Dave said “Make it raspberry”.

Now the very next morning I was reading my e-mail and I had one from the Technology Systems Analyst.  He wanted to remind all of us to send all requests for assistance through his helpdesk.    I sent a reply, assuring him that I would “get with the program”.

Now Jane (not her real name), my technologically gifted secretary, comes into my office and tells me that I sent the reply to everyone at Brewer High School. Oh s*#t.  I owe Dave a pie.  I grab my checkbook and race to the bank.  I drive up to the window and put my check in the little plastic canister and shoot it into the building.  Money comes magically shooting back and I removed it from the canister.  But when I try to put it back, I drop it on the ground and it rolls under my truck.  I can’t open the door (too close) so I drive ahead to……crunch!  I ran over the canister.  It is a pile of plastic shards.  I park and run back, stopping the car following me, so I can clean up the mess.  I carry the broken pieces into the bank and wait in line for a teller.

 When it is my turn to go to the window, all of the tellers and customers break into loud laughter.   “I guess I ran over your canister” I say with a pained expression.

 “You going to pay for that?”  asks one of the tellers.  I ask her how much and she slowly answers, “I don’t know, Mr. Priest.  No one has ever run over one before”.

Now I get the pie and return to dear old BHS as fast as I can, hoping to pay off Dave before anyone else finds out.  Jane, seeing me return, says “You’d better look at your e-mail, first!”

 I open my system and, sure enough, I have 7 e-mails.  I open each one slowly, reading one after another request for a pie.  Apple, blueberry, butterscotch….they all think that the deal included them, not just Dave.  Before I can respond to all 7, I have 5 more.  There is a pattern, here.  They started in the Special Ed. Pod, worked across to the Science Department, Social Studies next, up the south wing of Brewer High.  Pecan pie, lemon meringue, deep dish apple…..we hit the main office and round the corner, headed for the Student Services Center.  Dutch apple, Boston cream, strawberry rhubarb, the orders keep coming.  Down the North wing through English and Math, more pies are being ordered.  I can’t keep up with reading the e-mails, let alone respond to them.

Someone in Guidance orders a blueberry cheesecake and sends it cc’d to all 278 district employees.  The e-mail pie-epidemic has broken out of Brewer High.  When I replied to that request (when did I promise cheesecake?) I accidentally sent it to all 278 employees.  Now I am getting e-mails from teachers telling me what they want for a second pie.

I give up and walk down to the Special Ed. Office, ready to face the humiliation in person.  Dave (still not his real name) is talking to three laughing teachers in the hall.  As I approach, I hear him say (loudly) “and he runs over the canister!”  I walk up to the hysterical quartet.  This 45 year-old man is flapping his arms and jumping up and down like a 3 year-old who can’t wait to pee.  “This is the best first day of school I ever had!” he shouts.

I enter the Special Ed. Office, honestly trying to stay business-like.  Raspberry pie remains are everywhere.  One teacher, Jody (not her real name), hands me two blank envelopes. “ These are the only e-mails you can use from now on.”  Oh……har, har, har.

Later that evening I was telling my brother Ken (not his real name) what had happened.  Then I said “These things must happen to everyone.  Tell me it isn’t just me.”

“It is just you”, Ken answered.  “You are the Cosmo Kramer of  Special Education!”