The Day the Comb Binder Gods Smiled

I froze like a deer in the headlights. I had offered to help the student teacher with anything she might need done and of course it had to be the one thing I hadn't done for five years. Every school has one. The dreaded comb binder machine. Any PTA volunteer will tell you a good story of their first time around with a comb binder machine. It all starts innocently enough with young children making some super-cute artwork. Then, a teacher or parent decides that all the cute artwork needs to be saved for posterity in the form of a book. My first time binding was as a room mother in Nancy Bacon's kindergarten class. She wanted the best classwork and art work for each child for the entire year compiled into an over-sized comb bound book. Unfortunately for me, little kids are oftentimes overgenerous with their finger-paint, which makes the paper bubble and warp as it dries. So, I punched all the tiny rectangular holes into the crazily wavy thick papers with the comb binder and nervously started the covers. Then, the fateful moment came. Would the covers fit over the warped pages? Would the binding machine work? Beads of sweat popped out on my brow as I fitted all the papers onto the tiny metal teeth. I finished the first book. It was fine. No masterpiece of binding, but not terrible either. I released my breath and finished the books. After the first book, I was a comb binding machine and really got in a groove and enjoyed it. Somewhere in my attic, inside a plastic box with a tight-fitting lid, is that book of Troy's from 2000, nestled under years of subsequent work. He graduates from high school this year and his box will be waiting for him to buy a home and then it will finally be moved and looked at for the first time since that fateful day when the Comb Binder Gods Smiled.