Jennifer and the Horrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Day

With respect, I haven't read Alexander and the Horrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Day in a very long time, having failed to pursuade my students to choose it yesterday. So this post might be not faithful in any way to the book. (Though it is definitely kin to Grover's Awful Day, which is being read this month in kindergarten. In short, it is rainy, his boot gets stuck in some gum, he's late to school, he can't get his picture to look the way he wants, he left his lunch at home, his replacement lunch is a sandwich he hates, etc. It ends with him crying and his teacher and friend making him feel better somehow.) Yesterday wasn't a very bad, awful day because of any big thing, rather it was one of the those horrible series of events where little things are continually going wrong just like Grover (and possibly Alexander, like I said I can't remember). I was late to work, I was ambushed by my boss and given a new and immediate work task when I really needed just 5 freakin' minutes to print and copy my worksheets for class, I got sniped at by a fellow teacher for not having the daily kindergarten plans written up for the next day (she sniped at me again today, this time for not having given them to her at the time that was most convenient for her. She is a "witch" about kindergarten, which she is always complaining about having to teach even though she only teaches 3 hors a week. Paul called her a word that rhymes with witch about this and when Paul says that, well you really are!) I was late to opening (for SPEs/kindergarten), the kids would either not talk or yell over each other at once, I realized at the beginning of my 3A class that I had failed to copy the awesome worksheets I made a full week in advance and had to run downstairs to do that (feeling judged by the secretaries the whole time), one of my kids was a constant heckler who I wound up having a lengthy chat in the hall with and who gave zero explanation for his behavior, my 4A are always lousy but extra so because two of the girls just flat out refused to speak and one had not done her homework all week. By this point, I was really grumpy because I had no patience left and we had too much to do for sulky temper tantrums. I did triumph in the end, though. Work was done and words were said. Anyway, on way home, Paul said some things and I took it to be a criticism of my teaching, and well that went the way it might be imagined. Eventually, things seemed sorted out and I went to bed.

Normally, this is where the horrible, awful, no good, very bad day would end. But this was a bonus, extended version day. At 8:30 in the blessed am (after having gone to bed at 3:00ish), I was woken up by the apparent sounds of bombs falling on our city. This was both frightening (it was incredibily loud) and terribly confusing as I live in a very unstrategic city. Who would waste their bombs on us? I got up and ran to the glass doors to see what was going on and there was a MASSIVE religious ceremony going on in the courtyard. The "bombs" were the tons of firecrackers they were setting off directly in front of our apartment ahead of a palaquin carrying a religious statue. It was a very surreal and lenghty (by my reckoning) ceremony, I feel a little bad feeling so put off by it since all religions have rites that seem whacktastic to outsiders. I'll write about it later. Anyway, I waited for it to end and went back to bed and the next thing I know, Paul is waking me up saying it's 1:00 pm. I'm supposed to be at work at 1:00 pm. I was supposed to be in even earlier today to take care of that immediate task my boss gave me. This did not a cheery Jennifer make and poor Paul took the full force of it. I can't find my glasses, I don't have anything to eat (nor the time) or take with me to eat, I grab my backpack only to discover a package of Sweet and Sour sauce has exploded all over it and the floor at some point in the night (probably after being stepped on), I hadn't e-mailed myself the daily SPE plans when I finished them because I was supposed to wake up at 11:30, and so on.

Eventually, I, like Grover, started to cry and poor Paul, still reeling from some very mean words (the meanest words ever, he would go on to describe them as), gingerly stepped up to the plate, hoping that perhaps this time, a hug would be a good response. And just like Grover, it was. Don't ever say you didn't learn anything from Sesame Street. We came up with a plan where I didn't need my backpack, had something to eat and time to eat it, made it to work before class actually started, and could still complete the task that needed to be done right away. And for the first time in 1 and 1/2 days, everything worked just the way it should have.

So my fur is back down and life is worth living for yet another day. Virtual ear rubs are still being accepted, though.