A Poor Player...

You don't want to mess with me today. Seriously. I am a woman on the edge. I cannot promise you that I won't just teeter off that precipice and fall right into the kind of utter madness that involves the unraveling of your knitting. Today, I loaded 200 somewhat-odd kids on a bus and traveled with them a short distance to the local high school so they could watch some theater.

Not impressed? Fine. How about this? I traveled to the high school with 200 somewhat-odd middle school students and made them experience the theater.

There. I think we understand each other now.

I'm exaggerating just a bit. I didn't actually do this single-handedly. The rest of the teachers at my school went along for the ride as well. And the principal was there, too. I didn't have to wrangle all of them. It just felt like it.

Two schools in our district were scheduled to see The Chamber Theater Production at the high school's rather impressive facility. (If you are at all interested in this sort of thing, this was the show we saw) The technical aspects were amazing. Lighting, sound and scenery were among the best I've seen in my limited theater-going experience. While I found the pieces to be just a bit over-acted (apparently it was "enunciation and almost-British-accent week at Improv class...) it didn't really detract too much from the show. Frankly, the stuff geared towards younger audiences tends to run in that direction most of the time and I've gotten used to it over my many, many years of dragging children to these things.

The kids really weren't all that bad. I think they enjoyed it. But it's a long morning with lots of even longer wait times involving buses and scenery changes. Then we still had to go back and teach them something (per order of the principal) before they left for the day. I am tired. And I still can't figure out which of the little boogers had the laser pointer. This vexes me. I'm usually dead on with that sort of thing...

To make matters worse, it didn't even occur to me that I could have brought along some knitting until I was settled in my seat and wondering just how long one act of The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow could possibly last. Once I had that thought, it was impossible to let it go. I mentally beat myself about the head and shoulders for the rest of the show.

I suppose it distracted me from the laser pointer and the fact that I had to sit next to The Kid Who Has Worn The Same Hoodie Every Day Since Late September. That's probably a good thing.

I'm tired. Very tired. Forcing children to experience culture against their will because they will certainly enjoy it once they give it a chance is exhausting work. I just need to sit here at home for a bit where it is nice and quiet and where all is harmonious. I'd like to soak up the peace that comes from a Happy Habitat.

Home...

A place where no one ever squabbles over things like territory. Where no one cares who gets The Nappin' Basket and who gets The Big Cookie Bed.

For, as we all know, home is where you can always count on never having to get out the Water Squirting Bottle Of Judgement or listen to an Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty cry for twenty minutes because his sister does not love him. It's a place of sweet, sweet silence...

I eat beasts like him for breakfast. No problems here. None whatsoever.

SA