Like I Have a Choice…

Well I came home yesterday and had a minor nervous breakdown…not because of school. That went OK. Not perfect, not amazing, just OK. Sat through another hour of how to deal with a shooter on campus (doesn’t make me feel more prepared, trust me, although as science teachers, we have a more useful arsenal than most for the FIGHT section of Run Hide Fight. Yes. That’s what we learn in staff meetings. Fun stuff. Actually kind of upsetting stuff. I really don’t like it. But then again, there’s a lot of things I don’t like…fish, chocolate…allergic to both. Staff meetings, grading stuff, trying to explain to middle-school boys why they need to shower every single fucking day. Nope. Don’t like those things.

But no, that wasn’t it. I even stayed for about 45 minutes and reworked all the groups for the project they’re doing this week, because I realized how many kids would be out of my classes on Friday because an elementary school is coming to visit, and that means those kids will be helping with that, and it just wasn’t going to work in a group of 5 kids if 4 of them were gone on the day the project is due. Plus there were some groups that were dysfunctional. It’s not fair to put one hardworking high-level kid in a group when you know they’re going to end up doing everything. So I redid all those.

And then I came home. And got the damn mail. US District Court jury summons for the entire month of June. You know, the month when I teach sex ed. At the school where we either get no subs or we get subs who are incompetent and discuss bitcoin with the kids when they should be working on ecosystems. Or the sub who…well, I probably can’t talk about that one, because it’s an ongoing investigation. So every night, I’m supposed to call and get my status for the next day, and then if I have to go in, I’ll have to write sub plans right then for a sex ed unit that has no script for a teacher who doesn’t know my kids and probably really doesn’t want to talk to them about puberty or penises or HIV, and may actually be completely ignorant (I swear, when I did the training, there was a male science teacher…SCIENCE TEACHER…old enough to know better, who said he thought you couldn’t get pregnant the first time you had sex. Fucking A.). You’ve gotta be kidding me.

I was pissed. I still am. I do my civic duty every damn day. I don’t need more of it. So I walked the dogs, and I was still pissed. I tried going online to figure out how to postpone it to my vacation, to my break from my school year, to the one month a year when I can do all my doctors’ appointments, do my yardwork, run errands that take more time than 20 minutes…the one month a year I don’t get PAID. Yup. This is how I want to spend that month. The website is faulty. The website lies. I’m going to have to call in between 9 and 4…interesting, since those are my teaching hours…and sit on hold for at least 10 minutes, they say. Well then maybe you should make the website functional so I can do it there. Downtown too. So parking. I’m so annoyed. If I can’t postpone it, June will be a very difficult stressful month. Wait. June is always a difficult stressful month. Fun stuff.

And then we didn’t plan well for cooking this week. Well, there’s meals planned, but they’re all meals I know how to cook and it’s just easier (especially when you’re pissed off) to just do it yourself than to have the presence of mind to explain in detail to someone else what you need them to do. You can push the recipe over toward them (that didn’t work), but I really don’t want to be in charge all the time. I’m in charge all the time every day at school. I would like to come home a couple times a week and not have to deal with cooking. So I guess that’s my rule for next week, eh? Yeah. It is.

Stress. Need to find time to make the phone call (I have 3 other phone calls I need to make that have been on the to-do list for a long time). Need to grade stuff (did none of that last night due to mood from hell). Grades are due in a week. Again. Never-ending.

So eventually, I was able to push most of that shit over to the side, a big pile of festering fucking crap of when am I going to get everything done, so it’s still there, smelling up the place, but art brain is a pushy broad and gets her shit done. Holds her nose when she has to, breathes through her mouth.

I had that drawing of the two figures, which is from 2014, one of the ones from when I was broken, but the image in my head never made it completely onto paper. Which is interesting, because it’s all still in there, the drawing. I pulled it right up. Can’t remember what that thing with the three legs and the pump-like structure is called, but I still have a drawing in my head from more than 3 1/2 years ago…and I taped more paper around the edges. This is Calli probably getting offended because I’m bopping her in the head with the paper…or maybe she’s just giving me a loving look because I walked her.

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And I started adding the fireplace behind them that’s been in my head this whole time.

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It still needs fire and stones, and I gave him feet…but I still need to draw the third figure in the bottom section. Tonight hopefully. This deadline is before the other one…so let’s see if I can get going on that. Sigh. Trying to put all that angst into this piece instead of letting it sit inside me. Hate this shit. I really look forward to 8 weeks (it’s not even 8 weeks) of not thinking about or worrying about my job, so having something else I have to worry about instead, every single fucking day? I really can’t. Sigh. Like I have a choice. Plus how am I going to take any copyediting jobs over the summer if I can’t be sure I’ll be able to work on it every day? I can’t. That’s what it means.

Meanwhile the boychild is like…whoa! Jury duty! That would be so exciting! Um. Can I transfer it to my unemployed college graduate? Nope. No ma’am. We’ll torture him later. You? Now.

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