So, tomorrow morning, bright and shiny, we're all going back. Well, not all of us. In the vast wisdom of our school district, the elementary students have three weeks, and the secondary students have two.
Why, do you ask?
Beats me. I'm just a teacher here. No one asked for my opinion. Wait, they did...let me rephrase that.
No one listened to my opinion. Others have written about this; their administration's tendency to ask for input, so that teachers will have ownership of whatever decision is made, then going right ahead and doing whatever it was they intended in the first place.
I feel like Charlie Brown sometimes,
"Maybe this time, just this once, Lucy won't snatch that ball away from me at the last minute."
But of course, just like Mr. Brown, I'm always kicking at thin air.
Anyway, I don't want to complain.
I'm ready to go back to school, even if a third of my kids will be out. What did you expect? If my younger brother or sister is out of school, and we've gone to Mexico, or Vail or Maui, my whole family is going to come back just for me? I know, there's only three weeks left of the semester, but I'll just make it up. If I get a bad grade, my parents will pressure the principal to make the teacher give me more time or extra credit or just change the grade.
Still complaining, aren't I?
Anyway, it's raining buckets outside, and my kitchen floor has sprung a leak. Last year my landlady got tired of having the carpet cleaned because of the leak (something about rain coming in underground, through the fireplace bricks or something. She didn't fix the problem, just replaced the carpet in front of the fireplace with fake tile. You know that plastic-y stuff? Yep.
So, I walked into the kitchen this morning, in my socks, and well... you can guess what happened. Why is it that stepping into water whilst wearing socks is so horrific? It's just water.
I haven't told her yet, just mopped it up. My house is a mess, and I don't want anyone in here until I can get the rest of the Christmas extravaganza cleaned up. Besides, she won't do anything about it anyway.
I just hope that mold is not growing under there. I don't see how it isn't. But I can dream, right?
Alright. Back to the salt mines. I have a pile of essays to grade, and I'm still in my jammies.