Pretty Much the Worst

I would like to suggest that I have just experienced the worst day ever.

So it started off with my doctor's appointment. Now ask any woman, and she'll tell you that the annual pap smear is not something she looks forward to. It's something we tolerate because we know we have to do it. But it is very unpleasant and awkward and uncomfortable, from start to finish. Beginning with the urine sample that you try to get into the tiny cup and end up peeing all over yourself in the process.

And finishing up with discovering an unexpected message from the doctor's office, asking you to please call back regarding your appointment from that morning.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Picture me lying there, on the little table, scooched down to the very end to the point where you think you're going to fall off the table if you go any further. The doctor is doing the breast exam, so I'm pretty much as exposed as I could possibly be. Suddenly, there's this banging from outside of the window. The blinds are closed, of course, but from where I'm lying, I can see (through the slats) a guy rappelling from a rope with a squeegie in his hand.

Turns out it's window washing day at the Multicare Health Center.

My doctor was very unhappy, and covered me up. She went out to see why the window washers would be outside a gynecologist's office on a business day. She suggested we wait a few minutes for them to move on before getting back to my exam.

And that would explain why I was late for work.

I flew into my classroom 3 minutes late as the kids were coming in, and had just enough time to remove my coat and drop off my bag by my desk, when a parent comes over to me.

It's the parent who emailed my principal yesterday, asking to meet with her about her son's progress in third grade without inviting me. This parent has now just asked me if it would be ok for her to "just sit in a chair in the back of the room today to watch how he does during class."

This took me totally by surprise. The thought of this parent sitting there, staring at me all morning did not sound like a good time to me, so I explained that parents usually set that kind of thing up through the office. She told me that the psychologist said that it's ok for her to do that, if it's ok with the teacher. I re-iterated that I'd feel more comfortable having her go through the school policy of clearing it with the office first.

She left, and that's when I started panicking. I could only imagine the results of her son's sudden perfect behavior, and the conclusion that she'd draw, that I'm just making stories up about how he's not paying attention during class. Anyone think that having Mom sitting in the room would have an impact on the kid's behavior? Looks to me like the kid's got perfect behavior! What is this teacher talking about?

Now I get to look like a liar. Lovely.

Fortunately, she was turned away by the office. The secretary explained that observations need to be set up in advance. I'm so incredibly relieved, because I don't think I could have handled that stress today.

My principal came by to talk to me a little later, and explained that the mom spoke with her this morning. Apparently, she's concerned about how far behind he is, and thinks that maybe she would be better off pulling him out of class to homeschool him. In her eyes, she could do a better job than me (teaching her son + 25 other kids). I asked my principal why the mom is being so secretive, and why she isn't including me in any of this.

Apparently, her son says that he's uncomfortable in class, because I yell.

I was completely dumbfounded with that accusation. As my mouth was hanging open, my principal said that she told the mom, "Of all of the staff at this school, this teacher is the last teacher who I could ever believe would do that." The mom admitted that her son is "sensitive to re-direction," and the principal responded with, "Well, if your son is that sensitive, then I can guarantee that we will have problems finding a fourth or fifth grade teacher for him."

This is the same mom who told me all about the "bad second grade teacher who didn't like her kid" at the beginning of the year. Well, I guess that teacher's been replaced. Now I get to be the "bad third grade teacher who didn't like her kid." And next year, I'll get to hand over my torch to the "bad fourth grade teacher who didn't like her kid." And so on, and so on.

See, I can write all this out, illustrating how absurd all of it is. But emotionally, I cannot help but feel completely devastated and heartbroken.

I made it through the day. On my way home, I noticed I had a voicemail message. It was the nurse from the doctor's office, asking me to please call back when I get the message, she needs to share a bit of information with me.

I went from panicking that I was pregnant, to fearing that I was going to die in about 5 seconds. With shaking fingers, I dialed the number, and didn't have to wait too long on hold before I was connected. I'm sure it wasn't too long, but it FELT long. The nurse explained that in the confusion and chaos of having to interrupt my exam, thanks to the window washers, the doctor had neglected to do one of the routine tests.

That was it. I started breathing again, once my heart re-started.

And then, the finale. I dropped Binta off at my mom's, so I could go to Tina's "Thank God Report Cards are DONE" party. First, I stopped off at the grocery store to pick up some ice and plastic forks. Unfortunately, I went to the store in my district, and got spotted by a former parent. She started some small talk with me, and when I was just about to head out, she said, "So, are you having a baby?"

I'm sure I don't have to tell you how incredibly humiliating and embarrassing this was. This moment pretty much was the clincher.

The worst day. Ever.

But tomorrow. Tomorrow HAS to be better. I have to believe that.

I am a Horrible Person

For some time now, I have been getting cheap thrills by watching this clip.

I laugh until my stomach hurts and I have tears running down my face.

I'm not sure what sends me over the edge each time. It could be any number of things:

• the fact that the lively music continues to play in the background
• the fact that it takes several seconds for the other girl to offer any assistance
• the sight of grapes flying off the girls feet as she tumbles
• the fantastic sound effects of hearing her cries in slow motion

Perhaps it's the fact that in her attempts to cheat (by telling the other girl to stop so that she could demonstrated her quick stomp technique) she has, in fact lost.

Cheaters never win.

Really, none of it is funny. Yet I can't stop watching it and making my cheeks hurt.