Wednesday, April 9, 2014

This Is Getting Out Of Hand

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has been unseated!

Yes. It happened again. There I was, with turkey sandwich and Lays potato chips and bottle of water in hand, happily trekking to the cafeteria, ready for a sumptuous repast and stimulating company. Hey. I can dream!

I rounded the corner by the twin giant gray industrial plastic trash cans, and saw that my seat was taken. TAKEN! Uh huh. Jewel was plopped smack dab in the middle of my chair, with an empty one where she usually sits, the former lunch seat of Tomato Squirter. I swear. Can she not make up her mind who she wants to anger each day? I've a good mind to whip up a little voodoo doll to teach her the error of her ways. Surely, after three quarters of managing to stay out of my lunch chair, she can make herself remember to avoid that ONE little section of the table until school is out. Uh huh. That's what makes me think she's doing it on purpose.

I turned on my heel and went back to my room to enjoy my meal with my favorite company: me, myself, and I. Oh, Jewel saw me see her. Yep. And she continued to sit smugly in my place. I was in no mood to take the next seat over. Remember what happened last time I did that? Sir Gab hydrated my inner elbow with his saliva. That's not happening again.

There is one week of my lunch duty remaining. After that, I don't know if I even want to go out there at lunch time. The rewards barely outweigh the aggravation.

Yesterday, even though I snagged my rightful rump-resting place, I was subjected to asparagus and salmon outgassing from Jewel's plate.

Next year, I have fourth hour plan period. That means I can choose which lunch shift to eat. I will only be pinned down to a specific shift for five weeks of duty.

Yes. I can dream.

2 comments:

Sioux said...

As elementary teachers, we don't have any flexibility. We have the same lunch shift--all year long--but we get to eat our noontime meal in the sumptuous confines of the teachers' lounge...a place where a stained couch sits, an often-dirty long table (that can seat 12-14) rules, the copier, the printer (which most of the building is qued up to), the money-gobbling Pepsi machine, the refrigerator, the laminator and the refrigerator (formerly known as the mold-grower).

Some of the more gullible students believe there is a secret door by the laminating machine that leads to the teachers' swimming pool. I don't know HOW they got that idea or WHO told them that tall tale...

I enjoy everyone who eats on my lunch shift...with only one exception. They are the DENSE INTERJECTOR. They slip into other people's conversations, making dense comments. Constantly. We're collecting data for an upcoming IEP.

This teacher needs some interventions. Immediately.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
I am sorry, Madam, but you'll get no sympathy from me. Where there's smoke, there's fire. Unless it's in the faculty women's restroom, and then it's a cigarette, not fire.

The mere idea that students think there's a faculty swimming pool means there is quite possibly a faculty swimming pool.

Perhaps I am a dense interjector. I first read that as "a secret door by the lamenting machine." Yes. Where teachers lament that they don't have the key to the faculty swimming pool room.