Monday, April 17, 2006

Sometimes it's just a Monday

Sometimes, you come out of the shower to find your beagle in your bed like this:

...and you know it's going to be one of those Mondays. If Gus can't handle it, then it's not going to be a banner day.

My day got off to a slow start since my first class is generally comatose until about 10:30. The only alert being was my friend ScaryKid. Now, I generally like ScaryKid a lot. He's a bit obsessed with weaponry for my taste, but I'm nice to him in hopes that he won't come back and kill me someday. He always greets me with a cheery morning thought.

ScaryKid: "Hey, Mrs. Pigs? I think I figured out what the first weapon was."

Me: "A rock?" [grin]

ScaryKid: [stone-faced stare] "No. A catapault. Or maybe a bow and arrow. "

Of course, silly me. As my lethargic sloths began to rouse themselves from their stupors, I began my lesson. I soon noticed some violent movements from the corner of my eye. Scary Kid was trying to strangle himself. He would grip his neck, wag it around a bit, then relax, as though dead, before beginning again. He wasn't hurting anyone else today, so I let him be and continued my lesson.

That's when HelperMommy comes into the room importantly on a baggie quest. I continue teaching over my shoulder while I fetch her some baggies when her cellphone rings. Not just a ring, mind you, but that phone began to sing. "Ain't no hollaback girl! I ain't no hollaback girl!" Gwen Stephani sang into my classroom, clearly not blending with my "Do you think Sam Houston did the right thing by letting Santa Anna go" line of questioning. My class began to titter and giggle and bop like a chorus line, rockin' out to Gwen. It would be unprofessional and wrong for me, the teacher, to use a cellphone during class, or even to have one ring, so I was sure she would just silence it and apologize.

So you would think, right? No, no. She answers her phone immediately. "Hello?......Oh, I'm so sorry, mom.....Do you think you'll go to the funeral?.......Really.......Me? No, I can't go. I won't be able to make it........Well, you know SuperChild has soccer on Sunday.......Right.....Send my condolences.......Pigs? I think that should be enough baggies, thanks......Okay, mom.....Love you too......I will.....Okay, bye." This is all at full, regular phone conversation volume. My class stared at her, fascinated as she crossed the room and walked out.

I tried to shake it off and get back to my lesson when I noticed ScaryKid had turned his pencil into a gun and had turned it on himself. I shrugged. It was a nice change from it being aimed at me.

No comments: