Guest Presenters Are D*cks

Yeah. Guest presenters are d*cks. And not the kind that quack.

"There's no need for introductions, GP, we know who you are. You're the guy who's always wherever teachers gather, but would rather work in their rooms. You want to speak to us when we're dining on donuts and bagels. You want to know if the curriculum we're teaching is any good, or if you can keep us busy for your contracted time. I want to thank you, GP, on behalf of all the teachers in the world, for your unfailing attention to allotted break time, and your concern that we are lollygagging rather than peeing. But read my lips and remember, as hard as it is to believe, sometimes we like just having the opportunity to urinate, and sometimes we like just being left alone to do it without rushing."

Oops! Mrs. Hillbilly Mom took on a Julia Sugarbaker attitude there for a minute.

Mrs. HM woke up sick as a dog this morning, but couldn't use one of her bloated 98 sick days because it was a PD day. That's right. A PD day. Without the pupils. A time for learnin' for the learners. Might as well have no sick days left and take a docking, rather than try to convince the higher-ups that Mrs. HM fell sick on the Friday of a PD day. Though by 3:00, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom wished she would have tried to pull such a stunt, rather than go all weekend without an opportunity to see a doctor about the yellow-green stuff emanating from her upper orifices.

So...I hacked and hawked and stopped short of spitting all through that presentation. GP exhibited his d*ckiness by announcing that he would end before the scheduled time, and that he would give us two breaks, and then proceeded to allot us four (FOUR!) minutes for the first break. Sweet Gummi Mary! That's how much time we get between classes. And STILL the six of us on my hall cannot get in and out of the bathroom that fast. Switch that up to a crowd of Elementia, Basementia, and Newmentia all fighting for the five stalls (and you KNOW how teaching is top-heavy with womenfolk) and imagine our consternation. Then GP proceeded to count down from 10 seconds for when break was over. What was he gonna do, call the breaktime police?

Let the record show that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom needed her fluids. Not IV fluids. Not yet. But she needed three bottles of water for that three-hour meeting. And still she coughed. As you might surmise, Mrs. HM's bladder was having none of that 4-minute-every-50-minutes break business. She needed to go when she needed to go. That's why she sat on the perimeter of the proceedings as well. So as not to interrupt, or call attention to herself. She had just told her tablemates, "As soon as we start this next activity, I'm going to the bathroom."

GP dragged it a bit longer. Told us we were getting a breaks right after the activity. But a bladder wants what a bladder wants. Pee-ers gonna pee. When GP said, "Ready...set...GO!" Mrs. HM jumped up to make her potty run. She wasn't gone long. Perhaps two minutes. It's not far. But when she returned, GP was standing at the corner of kitchen and trash can. Right by the faculty women's restroom. Looking at his watch.

OOH! I'm scared! What are you gonna do, GP? Get me fired?

Seriously. At least three other people around me had got-up-and-went during GP's presentation. One even stopped by my table and chatted about how many years she had left. GP didn't make a big show of stalking THEM! I only got up during the activity. The second one.

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is mad as not-heaven, and she's not going to take it anymore!

I only gave him "agree" on all his evaluation points. Not a single "strongly agree" from this ol' gal. Guess I showed HIM!