Time to Retire

Well, I guess it's time to call the retirement office. I've officially seen it all.

Yesterday, the flu was confirmed in our district. Not at my school, mind you. In our district. One case. At an unknown school. Not mine.

Apparently this parent thought it was at our school. So she signed her healthy children out of school and did what any good mother would do--she took them to the doctor. To be examined. Because maybe the doctor could figure out how long to expect her children to be healthy. On her way there, she called the television station.

The TV vans, of course, came to film our campus. Interview other freaked out parents. The announcement came via email--yes, there's a confirmed case of flu in our county. No, it's not at our school. No, you don't need to worry about the news people outside. Just go over handwashing with your class again. We'll let the parents know.

The teacher across the hall from me decided to do a handwashing demonstration for her class. When she turned the handle of the faucet, the handle broke off. Water flew up to the ceiling, all over her collection of books, and onto the floor. A lot of it. So much so, that about 2 inches crept under the cement block wall of my classroom across the hall and onto my computer cords. I heard a kid down the hall yell, "I didn't do it!" as the water soaked through his shorts from the place he was sitting on the floor, 2 doors down. The janitors closed our hallway, redirecting traffic through my room and into the other hall. Huge, wind-tunnel-esque fans were turned on to dry the mess, and we used the only fabric we had in the room to swab the deck.

I was cleaning up the water with a shower curtain when my kleptomaniac ADHD sweetie pie picked up my new iPhone. I never even noticed. I had just taken it off "password protect" 30 minutes before, because it took forever to send a text.

Within seconds, he had sent a text to all of my A and B contacts, and was beginning to text the C's. He wrote simply, "help us." I only figured it out because of the persistent "quack quack" sounds that ensued, signaling a string of new text message had arrived. "Are you ok?" "What's wrong?" "Did I see something about that on the NEWS?"

Oh, my word. I told my mom (who was snorting with laughter so that she couldn't breathe) later that I had no idea whether to choke him or to laugh until my sides hurt--I have no plan in place for disciplining those who steal my phone and text my peeps. As a result of an in-house flood. As a result of the theoretical flu. You ever hear that theory where a butterfly flaps its wings in Australia, and a hurricane results in the Atlantic?

I haven't seen so many comedies of errors since the time the power went off the day before Christmas, we held our Christmas party by candlelight, and one of my friends escaped--to the roof. That was back when I was pregnant with Kaela, and my principal climbed on the roof instead of allowing me to--in a white suit and white stockinged feet. That Christmas, the office staff made up a video reenacting the entire scene, choreographing it to Free Bird, and The Night the Lights Went Out.

Good grief. One of these days I'm going to write a book. I love this job! :)