If I to spot a highway patrolman aiming a radar gun my way, I automatically tap the breaks even though I’m not speeding. Sometimes authority elicits a Pavlovian response from me. So, when Mr. Miller and Mr. Ritenour from Maintenance strode into my room last week wearing serious faces, I worried. Their expressions prompted a quick self-check which brought to mind two potential problems: A couple of weeks ago, the fire department warned us that our art cart’s location near the kiln posed a fire hazard. And two, my students recently removed Christmas paintings from the school windows using razor blades. A discreet glance in the direction of the cart sadly confirmed its unresolved proximity to the kiln room. As far as the windows, one might have been damaged in the process of scraping off paint. On one hand I pictured getting officially cited and fined by the fire department; while on the other, a ruined window loomed in the hallway. (I don’t even want to think about what that costs). Discretion being the better part of valor, I decided to wait and see which of the problems I needed to answer by inquiring, “What can I do for you?” in as cheerful a voice as I could manage.