Today was the kind of day that, had it been legal, it would have been nice to take a swig of something strong. Then again, I am still a little afraid to have a drink because that could be the beginning of the story that ends with, “Hello. My name is Beth and I’m a …”
Today, there were many, many situations that wrapped their tentacles into my brain and tore away at my sanity.
You might think it is hard work to remain chipper despite the seventeen parents who sent negative emails about their child NOT watching the President’s speech but those emails pale in comparison to the phone call from the irate grandmother who WILL TALK TO AN ADMINISTRATOR. TODAY.
At least now I know where the little guy gets some of his colorful language.
While it seemed like a good idea to let my hair air dry this morning to allow time to respond to some of the many emails, it suddenly seemed a poor decision when the local news channel came to film how my school was handling the Obama speech to the students. Make that BOTH OF THE LOCAL NEWS CHANNELS.
Yep! That was me, bad hair and all, on BOTH the local news channels this evening.
A paragraph won’t do justice the situation going on with the parents of the Tsunami Twins. Those poor kids! I could write a book about this family and you’d question my truthfulness
because nobody does this kind of ridiculous crap in real life! Right?!.
Having a teacher make inappropriate comments about a situation really frustrated me and wreaked havoc on my patience. Then all that patience came rushing back when Mr. Matter of Fact broke down in the hallway because he missed his father who died on the last day of school this past school year.
I couldn’t write about it then as my own emotions about losing my dad when I was a kid are still way too raw.
Lucifer the trainer seemed to pick up on the fact that I had had a rough day and went a little easier on me. It may or may not have helped that he noticed me on the news with my bad hair answering stupid questions from the reporter. Really, what principal would answer truthfully about if they did or did not think the Superintendent had made the right decision. OF COURSE, he made the RIGHT decision. See? I love my job!
Nothing soothed my soul more than my own husband. As I recounted my
hell day, I once again ended the conversation with my habitual comment of “I wish I were teaching again.” And he said, “"Why don’t you?”
I need to answer that question this year.
Why don’t I?