April Fool's

It is inevitable, isn't it? As teachers we expect to have some type of prank or joke pulled on us. So when I had made it through the first four periods unscathed, as I watched other teachers cleaning up, I figured I was home free. Ahh, security, how fleeting it can be.
M, we'll call him, walks into my room after lunch and ask, "Do you drive a red Jeep?" The give-away. "Yes, M, I do. Why?"
"Did you find any fish in it?"
"I haven't been to my car since my prep period. Should I check it?"
"I would," he replies.
So off we go, to check my car, which was locked, I thought. And there, stuffed under my door handle, and laying on my front seat, and under the front seat were three slimy fish. I had allegedly taken part in a seran-wrap job of a fellow teacher's room only weeks earlier, so I had an idea of where to go. I am always up for a good prank on a colleague and even a few students who can handle it. But, breaking into my car, that irked me. My car is my personal space, not too mention, the envelope of money in the center console compartment. I had been to the bank during my prep and left some of the cash in the car.
So I marched down to the teachers room, walked in, and emptied the bag that I had placed the fish in on her computer. Then, I walked into my room, kids all whispering and looking. Now I know that someone in my room was partly responsible. So I tell them that I'm not mad about being pranked, but I am not real happy with the idea of my car being broken into.
I step out of the room to get some tape from the storage closet and one of the young ladies follows me out; we'll call her H. "Mr. Mac, where are you going?"
"I need to get some tape, where are you going?"
"Oh, I don't know..."
Odd, but H is a bit odd in a very benign and amusing way, one of my favorites (if teachers had favorites). As I'm coming out of the storage closet, H is back and quietly says, "It was me. You look really mad. Are you?"
I have had moments before that indicate how I will be as a father, and this was one of them. I just couldn't be mad. Anyone else, maybe. But H. Not possible. So I explained the frustration. That my room is almost open game. I can handle my room being messed with. I expect it, and in a way, it makes me feel good to know that my students like me enough to prank me. But my personal space and property, especially when it involves breaking and entering, I don't handle too well.
The rest of the period poor H kept stopping by my desk to tell me how bad she felt. Now I almost feel bad for making her feel bad.
I can't wait till next year. Oh, and my colleague who provided the fish, let's just say her tennis bag won't smell too great by the end of the day!