I'm Crushing Your Head

You'd never think that ending my afternoon with a massive hail storm and tornado warnings could be an improvement upon my day. But then you must consider that my new car was in the uncovered parking lot eight rows back from the nearest entrance of the cardiologist's office where I was leaving my 4:00 appointment. And you should consider that I was leaving at 6:00. You wouldn't think that was so bad unless of course you knew that I had just hitchhiked a ride with a total stranger to my car across the ankle deep puddly parking lot along with an large, hulking man who was proud to be from Texas and had vast knowledge of hailstorm damage. Which he generously shared for ten minutes before our ill-shaven driver in a big black pickup truck complete with gun rack let us out by our cars.
This adventurous ride followed my 23 minute doctor's appointment during which I was strapped to many wires without explanation. My new cardiologist had an uncontrollable twitch remniscent of Woogie from There's Something About Mary. He wore purple glasses and told me that I'm thin exactly 7 times. For this reason and apparently this reason alone, he doesn't believe me to have a heart problem.
All of this was after having waited in the waiting room with no less than six old men for one hour and 37 minutes. Six old men with apparent heart trouble who have perhaps not seen a young person in a decade and had a need for chit chat. One of the gentlemen was named Trusty. I know because it was emblazoned upon his shirt patch.
Just before arriving at this fine establishment, I had to leave school early to make this appointment on time. This requires great cunning and stealth. I tripped over my sandal while trying to surreptitiously slink across the carpool line with my sunglasses on. One of my parents witnessed my public lack of grace and expressed some rather conspicous concern out of her car window while her child waved and audibly called my name in front of the afterschool duty teachers and the assistant principal, by whom I was attempting to sneak.
Even all of this wouldn't have been so discouraging if I hadn't spent another entire day of my life keeping ten year olds quiet so that more testing could commence. Not testing of my kids, but testing of the fifth graders down the hall. Math TAKS Day. So my poor kids had to take yet another test to take advantage of this "classic testing environment." (administrative phrase used to coerce me into thinking this was a jolly good idea.)
It turns out that there are little known side effects to overtesting kids. They start to play games like "I'm Crushing Your Head" and "If You Suck on Your Arm, It'll Leave a Hickey" during the testing process. This, of course, interferes with the sacred and highly honored testing environment precious to my school district.
The hickeys may lead to copious parent phone calls. As a result of this and other touchy subjects on my blog, I will henceforth be known here as When Pigs Sing. From the often uttered "Never teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig." Just call me Big Chief WhenPigsSing. That'll be me.
Ever tried telling a story backwards before? Leaves you in an awkward little place here at the end. We'll end this little anecdote with my students' favorite story lead: Hi! My name is When Pigs Sing and I'm going to tell you a story about my day.