The iPhone Thief

My iPhone was stolen during class one afternoon. I know it was stolen during class because I had just used it before the class started and I put it in my briefcase. Unfortunately, my briefcase was open, exposing the shiny new iPhone.

You don't know the turmoil one goes though when they loose a devise they are so accustomed to having on their side. It feels like an appendage someone just lost; they keep reaching to itch it, but its not there.

I kept reaching for my iPhone, but every time I found a vast emptiness in the spot where it used to be, safely tucked in my purse. I went though the stages of grief.

Denial: I searched far and wide for my phone. I looked in every crevice in that classroom. Then I looked in the bathroom stall , the office mailbox, the teachers lounge fridge and everywhere else I went that day. I thought, for a brief moment, that it couldn't have been stolen, not by my students.

Anger: The janitor happened to walk in at this point. I realized it was stolen after all my tracks had been retraced. I feel bad for the guy, because after I shouted at him that my phone was stolen, I skipped bargaining and went straight to depression.

Depression: I couldn't make it to the Principals office because my eyes were filled with soggy tears. I went to the phone store and began the last stage of grief.

Acceptance: I told the helpful people at AT&T that it had been stolen. They made me laugh and asked me questions about teaching, which made me feel better. I ended up turning on my old blackberry.

The key to rescuing my iPhone was that I had all weekend to think about how I was going to handle it when I went back to school. I have to admit, anyone else would have handled it wrong. I was the perfect person to have my phone stolen. To be continued...