7.5 (not counting weekends)

At 7:45 this morning the Cheerful Teaching Assistant arrived, sporting damp hair and a rather bleary look.  She reported that she had found no real motivation for getting out of bed this morning.  The only reason she decided to emerge from under the covers, she said, was because her hand had gone to sleep and she no longer had the sensation and dexterity necessary to keep hitting the snooze button.

At 9:30 this morning, I found myself engrossed in what could only be described as an epic battle of wills and difference of opinion over the relative merits of Reading class.  As there was a tour going on for the incoming fifth graders, it was not the best of moments to be having a potentially explosive situation manifest.

At 10:40 this morning, I said, "Oh dear God...I have three emails and they are all bearing the same student's initials in the title."  As the student happened to be sitting in the classroom at the time, I thought to ask why everyone in the school was feeling the need to email me about him.  

At 10:45 this morning, I realized the folly of asking certain questions.  And reading my email.

At 11:00 this morning, The Cheerful Teaching Assistant said, "I am beginning to seriously question my decision to get out of bed this morning."

At 11:30 this morning, the office was full to overflowing with students who had opted to try something a little different today.  Maybe take a risk or two.  The first recess was ended abruptly after it became clear that they are all out to get us.

At 12:00 this afternoon, I announced to The Cheerful Teaching Assistant that I was not eating my salad today and that I didn't want to hear one, single word about it.

At 12:01 this afternoon, The Cheerful Teaching Assistant said, "That is perfectly understandable" and handed me two of the mini Three Musketeers bars that she'd scored from the secretary's stash in the teacher's room.  

At 1:00 this afternoon, I was forced to admit to a student that, even though he swore up and down that he did not do all the bad things I'd read about in the emails, I had no credibility left with which to defend him.  He was on his own.  The only person more hated than him at that moment was the teacher who couldn't go with him to the place where he made such poor choices.  Because I was stuck in the classroom trying to avoid World War III over the existence of Reading class...

At 1:05 this afternoon, I began to see my life as being somewhat fraught with paradox and irony.

At 2:00 this afternoon, I realized that it was not Friday.  I may have actually whimpered just a little bit.  

At 2:50 this afternoon, the office called up to the classroom to tell me that my last student of the day should get ready to go because his bus was due to arrive at any moment.  I informed them that I had already sent him down.  "Well, you must just be psychic!" I was told.  

At 2:51 this afternoon, I said, "I am not psychic.  I simply hate everyone and want them to all go away."  

At 3:00 this afternoon, I was able to leave the building.  I had the school nurse scout the hallways for staff who are still holding a grudge about the whole "questionable behavior" thing in spite of the principal telling them that I had my hands full at the time.  The school nurse still likes me.  She has my back.  Of course, she wouldn't give me any leftover medication she had lying around, but I honestly think she was trying to keep me from doing anything stupid at that point.  No amount of explaining that medication was only going to help matters would sway her.  But I respect that.

There are 7.5 days left.  Then this will be my view:

If anyone needs me this weekend, I will be under my bed.  Do not attempt to remove me.  I will bite you.  And don't even try to pry the brownies out of my hands.  That will not end well for either of us.  We'll discuss it in 7.5 days.

Not counting weekends.

SA