It was supposed to be a simple birthday prank.

That’s what I told the class. All twenty-some other kids that I usually despised, and they certainly delivered.

Marissa, the girl that always had to provoke someone to get the tea, brought a cake.

I don’t know who she paid, or who the plug was, and I didn’t care.

The cake was bomb.

On the top, elegantly iced, read “Happy Birthday, Miss Dailey.”

We couldn’t light candles in school, but the art nerd Paige made paper ones. They were actually gas. She made a card, too, which we all signed.

We had to talk to the principal about carrying out the idea, and she said it was okay. Which was weird, but the principal usually has a good vibe so we weren’t expecting her to tell us no.

How could she?

So, on March 12, 2024, Miss Dailey’s fourth period class pulled the fire alarm.

———

I heard the fire alarm and the first thing I remember thinking was that we hadn’t gotten an email about a fire drill.

I was briefly pissed- for lack of a better word- that admin wasn’t communicating openly again. Today’s lesson was important, and I wanted these kids to understand it.

They weren’t even anywhere to be seen.

Caley was standing outside my door, looking sheepish.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Caley said. I nodded slowly.

“Well we better get out of here. They’ll probably be outside waiting for us.” I laughed, putting my hand on Caley’s shoulder and lightly directing her towards the exit.

Something was off when we got outside and with a sinking feeling I considered that maybe it wasn’t just a drill.

Everyone was disorganized, clustered in a huge circle in the middle of the parking lot.

Caley grinned.

My heart was pounding, and I kept glancing back at the school but couldn’t see any smoke. I spotted the principal near the circle and rushed towards her.

When I reached the circle, it disbanded in a shocking burst of singing.

Rachel was standing in the middle (right next to Marissa, which was odd), holding a giant pearly white cake. On the top, in purple letters, said “Happy Birthday, Miss Dailey.”

I felt my eyes start to prick with tears, watching all my students that I worked so hard to connect to over the year singing me happy birthday with the biggest grins on their faces.

Kids I didn’t even know were crowded around, pushing through to hug me and say happy birthday.

Tears were running down my face, kids from my class piling up on top of me to give me the biggest hug that nearly suffocated me.

“Miss Dailey, are you crying?” someone giggled in my ear. I sniffed and hugged them all tighter knowing, if nothing else, that I had reached these kids.