Teaching is a vocation fraught with danger!
Lest you not feel the full impact of the wound, nearly slashed to the bone, here is another view.
How did this injury occur? Far be it from Mrs. Hillbilly Mom to tell tales out of school. Perhaps she should remain mum on the subject. To make her workers' compensation claim more viable. For Mrs. HM was on the job when this not-yet-festering flesh wound was inflicted upon her.
Was Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's hand snagged on a pupil's braces as she tried to quiet him, knowing full well that duct tape is not allowed to be used as a muffler? Did an errant pencil with a finely-honed point come winging its way to her desk? Was Mrs. HM an unwitting half-witted hero, sliced in a knife fight she tried to disarm?
No, no, and no.
Yesterday was teacher payday. We are a spoiled lot. We have direct deposit, but we also have our check stubs delivered to us in an envelope by the person in charge of the building. They may not be tellin' Mrs. Hillbilly Mom something. Because yesterday, my fake check stub was delivered by the counselor's secretary. I stuffed it in my purse, which I usually do not have out in plain sight, if you can call plain sight on the floor under my control center table, beside my desk leg, hidden by the makes-a-better-door-than-a-window body of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.
After the bell, but before the legal leave-time, Mrs. HM reached into her purse to grasp the check for The Pony's three three-hour dual enrollment courses he's taking this semester. Yes. Most people pay tuition before now. But this local college does not send out a bill, only relies on students to check their accounts. Which may be why last December, we got a letter that no grades would be issued, nor credit accrued, until payment was made. So I made The Pony bring up the account, printed out a statement, addressed an envelope, and readied it for mailing.
Well. Apparently paying tuition is as dangerous as teaching! On the way to grasp the checkbook in order to record the direct deposit and write out a check, Thumbkin was incised by the open flap of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's pay stub envelope.
Is it ironic for a person to file a workers' compensation claim for an injury incurred while working to discern the compensation one was awarded for doing one's job?
Let the record show that is photo was taken after 16 hours of healing, and cannot accurately convey the pain and suffering Mrs. Hillbilly Mom endured during dishwashing, handwashing, and Germ-X sanitizing.