Ramblings for the Evening (3/5/06)

Time passes quickly ending my restful weekend and preparing me to run back into the burning building.
Rather than wax poetic, let's just get to the ramblings.
So, without further ado: WILL NOT BREAK...IT BROKE....
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PTCs:
Sigh.
Thursday night was Parent/Teacher Conferences (PTCs). Now, I mentioned that my school LOVES me in my teaser (hey, as DeRusha mentioned, I could always work as a news writer....), and I meant it.
I went through the whole day of teaching, then, after school, I worked for two hours getting the set of West Side Story started (for which I have two weeks left to finish). It was tiring. With seconds to spare, I bolted from the auditorium to the school cafeteria (thereby getting ZERO food in my stomach before hand, which meant for the entire day I had eaten some pretzels and a cereal bar) to meet with parents. As I mentioned before, I had only 8 parents signed up and at the most random times (there were gaps of over an hour). So here's where I discover how much I'm loved. I know which two teachers I am supposed to be between (there are only a few teachers with "L" beginning their last name. I get to the corner and... there's no "Leab". I look around thinking maybe they misspelled my name again or put me in the wrong place. No luck. My administration forgot about me. There was no sign, no sign in sheet for parents, and no place for me to sit. Luckily the other two teachers were able to make a small area for me. I generated my own sign-in sheet by ripping a piece of paper out of my planner, and I used one of my grading sheets for my sign.
Eventually the IT lady saw my predicament and printed a sign for me. That was about it.
The parents? Well, that was even MORE fun.
11 different parents showed up. Most of them asked zero questions, and set of parents showed up at 7:00 (as I was leaving) and BEGGED me to meet with them. The father was drunk, and the mother kept making apologies and asking questions that had nothing to do with me. (Here's a hint: I teach English, so asking me about Chemistry...not my thing.)
Was it the worst experience? No. I didn't have a parent show up and throw all my stuff on the floor and accuse me of hating his or her son (one teacher did have this happen).
The highlight of my night, however, was hanging out with and talking to a teacher's ten year old daughter. I did my impressions of Shaggy, Harry Potter, and more. She just laughed. I taught her new word (Gobo. It's the piece of metal you insert into a light to make shapes and such) and met her imaginary friend.
How sad is it that the highlight of my night wasn't meeting parents or talking to students or fellow teachers? No, the best part was hanging out with a ten year old. I guess it's because she's at my mental speed.
You tell me: Should I be pissed that my school forgot about me?
Imagine you have to present at a conference, and they forget to put you on the agenda. Wouldn't you be hurt just a little?
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Anniversary:
Friday was my five year anniversary.
I had plans.
Over the course of our entire relationship, I have been able to surprise her at least twice a year by do something for her. This year I had set a plan in motion where I would sneak into her work, and be at her cubicle with flowers and a gift. Two of her co-workers were in on it and were going to distract her while I snuck in to her cubicle. Then, later on, we had reservations at Vincent. I had been planning this for a while. It's what I do. You can call me callous. You can call me a real son of a bitch, but when all is said and done, I love my wife.
So, with all this in mind, my anniversary was horrible. My wife left work early because her back gave out. She sat in her chair wrong and pinched her Sciatic Nerve. This meant she was not at work when I left school, and it meant we were not going to Vincent for dinner.
I spent my anniversary pretty much carrying my wife around the house so she could use the bathroom. Our dinner? Oh, I'm glad you asked. We did what we usually do when we move to a new place: We had Kentucky Fried Chicken. Good stuff.
So, let's review: Thursday was a killer day, and then Friday, which was supposed to be fun...not so much.
Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, and if it wasn't for her, I'm probably dead. That being said, it was not a good anniversary for either of us. She was in pain, which was rough for both of us.
As I write this, her pain has only slightly subsided. This morning, she tried to roll over. The pain overtook her and she shot out her arm. That's how I woke up this morning: my wife punched me in the face.
And finally:
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My Family Should Just Buy a Room:
My sister is going in for surgery tomorrow. This is her second surgery in under a year. Now, Since I was a junior in high school, one of us has pretty much been in a hospital for at least a day or two every year. This includes my sister's surgery, the birth of my neice, all of my father's health issues, and more.
I don't know if you'll read this, sis, but I hope your surgery goes well and you're back on your feet in no time.
As to the rest of you, my dear readers, I wish you health, wealth, and better days.
Tomorrow, I have mail for you.
Namaste.