Okey-Dokey...

If there has ever been a question in your minds regarding just what an agreeable sort of gal I am, I think I can dispel any lingering doubts about that.  In fact, I can also prove that I am easily lured into accepting a situation with the simplest of ploys known to man.

A little over a year ago, while still trying to enjoy the last few weeks of summer vacation, I got a call from the Special Education secretary begging me to pretty, please, please, please agree to come down to do a training in safety procedures that would render me certified to train others in our school district.  I did not wish to do this.  I wanted to sit at home and watch cartoons for a few more days before doing anything school-related.  But I said I'd do it.

I'm a sucker for the Pretty Please...

The training was unpleasant and the dude running it was something of a masochist.  He worked us to the bone and even set up impossible role-playing situations that devolved into one of my co-workers throwing a desk at me.  She was simulating an out-of-control student and I guess she got a little caught up in the moment.  With that little piece of business out of the way and an injured knee to my credit, I was fully trained.

I agreed to go forth and train others as promised, but decided that I would never again go through this.  No amount of Pretty Pleasing was going to topple me from my tower of resolve.

  I meant it.  

So, today I was back at the recertification training which will allow me to continue in the fine tradition of educating my colleagues at minimal cost to the district.  Apparently, all it takes is one strongly worded email and the begging eyes of the Special Education Director for me to be toppled.  

They could make me go.  But they couldn't make me like it.  What's to like?  You have to practice various forms of physical restraint, evasion techniques and role play how you might go about avoiding these sorts of situations by chatting distractingly with irate children.  There's no coffee, only bottled water so you'll have a caffeine fueled headache bouncing around in your noggin well before the noon hour.  You can't knit because one of the rules is that you teach your trainees to focus all their attention on the trainer.  And, to make matters worse, you will notice that most of the other people who did the original training aren't there which means that they were able to successfully get out of the whole stupid thing.

Nope, I told myself.  Not going to like it.  I won't even crack a smile.  I'll just sit there and project an image of exasperation and pouty resignation.  That'll teach 'em.  They'll think twice before conning me into another one of these stupid trainings.  

I swaggered into the classroom today fully engaged in "You are so totally not the boss of me" mode and ready for some serious pouting.  And then I saw the trainer.  These people are diabolical in their strategy-building.  Evil geniuses, that's what they are.

He.  Was.  A.  DORABLE!!!!!!

Further, he was more than adept at using a little bit of the flirty-flirty to get middle aged trainees on board for the material.  The Director introduced me as the one "he'd better watch out for," and that was it for me.  I was the most dedicated student of school safety techniques to ever open the manual.  I tried to resist.  I really did.  But what does one do in the face of a charming young man who knows how to work the perimenopausal crowd?  By the time he got around to describing my demonstration of how to release one's self from a hair pull as "beautiful," I was pretty much beyond help.  I had lost all control over my better judgement.  

And I may or may not have turned to my fellow trainees with my arms held out in victory, nodding my head and swaggering before them saying, "Now that's what I'm talking about!"  

I don't even like myself all that much right now so there is no point in saying that you are ashamed of me.  You can't make me feel any worse about the whole sorry display.

Suddenly, I was a regular Pollyanna, seeing the bright side in everything.  Maybe I couldn't knit during the actual class, but I got to knock out a few rows on the traveling sock project during lunch.  Sure, I didn't actually eat the lunch that was provided, but it was free.  And it came with all the water I could drink!  Why, when I stopped to think about it, it was really rather nice to have a day away from the classroom even if it did mean having a chair (containing a whole person) dropped on my foot.  That's a small price to pay.  And, to learn that I have to do another half-day of training to account for the fact that I didn't get in enough teaching time last year to qualify for recertification just means I get more time to enjoy all this wonderfulness.  I even get to do some work at home to extend the experience a bit further!  That is fan-freakin'-tastic!!!  

Best of all, the training didn't start until 8:00 in the morning so I got to leave the house a full hour later than I normally do on a regular sort of day that doesn't include such a fabulous gift from The Fates.  We even finished up just a bit early, allowing me to be home in time for an extra long session on the little exercise bike.  I gained two whole hours of time thanks to this golden opportunity presided over by the Angel Of Safety Training Who Now Has My Email Address So He Can Send Me My Homework Assignment And Who's Missive I Will Probably Giggle Over For Days!  

Extra time in a day, even at the expense of my very dignity, is actually something kind of nice now that I think about it.  We probably shouldn't call it "me time," though.

I told the Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty that I scheduled the time for him.  

The Big, Fluffy Kitty knows better and I didn't even bother trying to sell this story to her...

I'm telling neither of them about Mommy's weakness in the face of the Pretty Please and Charmingly Manipulative Young Trainers.  They are my babies.  They don't need to know about the seamier side of life just yet...

SA