One windy, winter day with the indoor thermometer at less than fifty degrees, I complained
to the principal for the umpteenth time about the inadequate heat.  I believed in the old
adage, “The wheel that squeaks the loudest get the grease.”  Principal Dynamite Dorothy,
in turn, finally went to see our obscure and elusive, school custodian, Cranky Claude, to
complain once more that we had little or no heat in the classrooms.

During the entire school year, I had only seen Cranky Claude in person twice.  The first
time was early one morning when we passed each other in the dark, basement hallway. 
Cranky Claude was dressed in dirty bib-overalls.  He had on a lumberjack shirt, hob-nailed
boots, and a large, brown, crumpled, felt hat festooned with little brass pins, fish
hooks, and miniature medals and ribbons.  His hairy face was an angry, wrinkled, glaring,
and intimidating mask.

To my cheery, “Good morning, Sir,” Cranky Claude said nothing, but he spun quickly about
and retreated to his private hideaway where he loudly slammed the door.  Later, I was told
he usually did not come out of his subterranean, boiler room “office” while there was
anyone else in the building.

It was obvious Cranky Claude did not like people, and, especially, he did not enjoy
listening to their complaints.  “Why is such an unfriendly person working here?” I
wondered.

The second time I met Cranky Claude was on another of those terribly cold winter days,
when I decided to confront our custodian myself, instead of bothering Dynamite Dorothy.  I
wanted to ask him personally if he was certain there was nothing else could be done to put
some heat into the classrooms.

When I knocked on Cranky Claude’s subterranean “office” door, there was no answer, but
the door swung open to reveal the interior of his dark, hideaway room.  Inside I saw
endless stacks of magazines surrounding a huge, filthy, overstuffed, lounge recliner.

Stepping inside the smelly room, I could see there was a large, three-bulb floor lamp
illuminating the dingy room.  Just beyond was the huge boiler, and all the associated
equipment that was providing no warmth to our classrooms.  Strangely, I noticed, Cranky
Claude’s hideaway room was plenty warm, even a bit too warm for my tastes.  How odd, I
thought.

Suddenly behind me, there sounded a very loud and angry voice.

“What are you doin’ in here?” the voice demanded.

I turned and found myself confronting our hermit-like custodian, Cranky Claude.  One
glance confirmed his foul mood at finding someone had dare to enter his private
sanctuary.

“I came looking for you, Sir!” I replied, while remaining in place.

“This boiler room is off limits,” he shouted angrily.

“We need some heat in the classrooms!” I replied, while totally ignoring his obvious
upset at my invasion of his private realm.  “Can you do anything for us?”

Still glaring, and suddenly unresponsive Cranky Claude stepped toward me as if to attack.
 But he must have thought better of that idea, and he moved past me looking all about as
if to see if anything in his dark “kingdom” had been disturbed.

“No one is allowed in here!” he insisted, in a loud voice, as if he had heard nothing I
had said.

“We need some heat in the classrooms!” I shouted. “Now!  You’ve got heat in here.  There
must be a way to pipe some of it upstairs!”

Cranky Claude began to rage back and forth like a caged animal, while muttering angry
incomprehensible oaths.  Apparently no one had ever confronted him like this, but at the
moment I really didn’t care.

Finally, I administered the coup de grace.  “If you don’t get us some heat into our
rooms, we’re going to get the superintendent and the school board to find us someone who
will!”  I turned and strode out of his den, but this time, it was I who slammed the door!

Back in my classroom, we attempted our learning tasks in our usual coats, hats, and
gloves, when presently we began to notice the room was suddenly getting warmer!  By
lunchtime it was definitely pleasant in the classroom!  Miracle of all miracles!

So, off came the coats, hats, and gloves!  We all went smiling to the cafeteria for
lunch.

After eating, the schedule called for us to go outside for a recess period, and there, I
listened to several teachers who were discussing the sudden, unexpected heat in all of the
classrooms.  It was a shocker, and everyone was grateful for the respite.

However, after the outdoor recess period was over, and we had all returned to our
classrooms, the heat continued to rise unabated. Before the afternoon was over it became
necessary to open some of our nine-foot windows in search of a happy-medium temperature. 
In just a few hours, we had gone from an extreme of numbing cold, to another of growing,
almost overpowering, oppressive heat.

Our principal, Dynamite Dorothy, was as confused by the dramatic turnaround as anyone. 
She said our custodian, Cranky Claude, wasn’t talking about how he was suddenly able to
get our boiler to produce heat for the classrooms, nor why he was unable to regulate it to
a more pleasant temperature.

All the custodian said was, “You wanted heat, now you got it!”

Then, he retreated to his hideout “office” and slammed the door!

Dynamite Dorothy immediately called the superintendent to make him  aware of our
situation.  She also told him about Cranky Claude’s discourteous behavior.

All of this occurred on a Friday, and, of course, we all closed our classroom windows
before leaving for the weekend.  We left hoping that our school leaders would take
immediate steps to correct the situation and investigate the bizarre behavior of Cranky
Claude.


In the school hallway on the following Monday morning, when I reached for the doorknob to
open my classroom I was shocked to discover it was literally “too hot to handle”.  I had
to use my glove to keep from burning my hand!

The classroom door almost burst open, when I turned the brass knob, and the superheated
air inside poured out into the hallway like a thick soup, engulfing everything in its
path.  The excessive heat actually forced us all backward.

A thermometer in the classroom showed the temperature inside was over 120 degrees, and,
judging from appearances inside the room, it had probably been at that level since right
after we had left on Friday.

The surfaces of Formica-covered tables in our classrooms had buckled into large waves and
curls from the excessive heat.  Crayons in the students’ desks had melted into lumpy
globs.  Stacks of student’s papers on my desk had turned into crispy, pale-brown
parchment.  A large, flowered vase had burst, leaving shards scattered about.  Videotapes
had melted and had to be thrown out.  And, of course, all of the windows had to be opened
to let out the superheated air before the classrooms could be used.  But we were in for
another surprise!

All of the windows in the school had been nailed shut.  Cranky Claude was nowhere to be
found.