Today was one of those mornings when you're teaching seventh grade about imagery. You're introducing a bit of homework that isn't due for a few days and the thing you really have to do is a lot of end-of-semester grading. A lot. We're talking 80 essays due Sunday night, 46 more due Tuesday night, and a thousand little things you've put off grading until the end... and it's sneaking up on you, and you're pushing it away so you can teach class... but all you really want is a cinnamon roll with raisins. You know? What every teacher really needs is their* vice principal to show up with a cinnamon roll, and be like, "Here you go! Take a break, and I'll cover this class time. Enjoy that cinnamon roll, now!"
I mean, these cinnamon rolls. Everyone talks about them. It's inappropriate how often everyone talks about them. The problem has been that I'm teaching during the time when the cafeteria is selling them. Because of my split schedule, half middle, half high school, I teach through the break time when the rolls are for sale. In yesterday's meeting about a low-performing student, I even told this to the administration, because a whole day had gone by since I had complained about something.
You know that fantasy where someone comes into the room and trades you your class time for a cinnamon roll? That totally happened today. And it was both of my assistant principals who came into class, one to present the cinnamon roll, the other to whip everyone into shape after the oohing and ahhhing had subsided. I'm telling you, I left that room so fast, with my Kindle and my warm, sticky cinnamon roll.
Did I mention that my school is hiring?
*I'm using the form as a third person singular neuter on purpose, so would you cool it, already?
:-)
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