Here’s the edit and the admission.
I’m an idiot.
My life is so slow and boring of late that I have nothing to write about and still have the compulsion to write something anyway.
(There’s also a guilt streak in there somewhere. Something about an obligation to continue to regularly journal, a practice I’ve been doing since childhood. Makes me wonder if I was born compulsive.)
I just happened to thumb back to my last entry, near a month ago and I find that I already wrote half of today’s entry back at the beginning of June.
Seriously, folks. I’ve said it before and I’ve proven it now -
I NEED A LIFE.
Thus endeth the comments on my personal stagnation and stupidity - for now.
It’s a subject I’ll get back to later, I am absolutely certain.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
So -
Summer in my life equals summer school.
Bring on the madness.
Actually we’re nearing the end of summer session, to the great relief of almost every one involved.
My job, as ever, is to chase down the missing and listen to the fibs and rationalizations from students and parents alike as to why Little Johnny or Janie
(co-ed summer school - OhMyMajorGack!)
can’t make it to school this bright hot day for an amazing array of reasons.
They always take me for the world’s most gullible soul as they relate some of the worst fabrications. (I just write it all down as though I believe because you can’t call a parent on a lie even if the student completely contradicts the adult’s story.)
I’m also the witch whose job it is to remind over accommodating parents that they can choose to keep students out for whatever reason they choose (Disney trips, morning appointments when the student doesn’t have afternoon classes, conflicting schedules for driver’s ed classes, etc.), but we will choose to keep tuition without awarding credit for any student who is absent more than twice in a 25 day term.
There’s always a lot of my job that’s unpleasant.
What can I say? When you take a position where you’re the designated handler of any student rude enough to vomit in public, it’s kind of your fate.
Honestly, I was seriously lied to at the end of last century when I was being interviewed for the position. No one mentioned reverse peristalsis at any time.
But you take your giggles wherever you can find them and
I can’t help but smile as I work on preparing grade rosters for the end of term.
This summer we have enrolled in our institution of repeat learning the following stellar students:
Mr. Lerner,
Mr. Knower,
Miss Wise, and, I kid you not,
Mr. Smartt.
How can their parents stand the irony of these particular students having to attend summer school?
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