Hi Lady C, it's Nikita again, I was just talking to you, so I'm
looking at your upcoming appointments and you're also seeing
the surgeon on February 14. Did you want to keep that one? Call
OK, this is alarming on so many levels. The implication is that I called my face surgeon to cancel my appointment on the 31st — and without that appointment, why would I need the reconstruction of my face on the 14th? A reasonable question, for sure.
Except I never called, I did not cancel, and I've already gone a whole freaking week without drinking, which had better not be in vain. Who the hell is calling my surgeon to cancel my appointments? This is, like, the most annoying spiteful prank ever.
And when I called back, Nikita was very suspicious and did not want to believe that I hadn't called her earlier. "Someone else named Lady C must be having surgery the same day," I said. "Nope," she says, "only men are scheduled." "Then she's having it on another day," I said. "Nope," she said, with a definite aha! gotcha! note in her voice, "You said the 31st." "I didn't say anything," I snapped, but then remembered that Nikita was the one with the power in this situation, so I went back to being Miss Mohs Surgery Congeniality.
But I was annoyed.
I got my original appointment back (I thought about suggesting to Nikita that she and I choose a code word, so she'll know if it's really me when Faux Lady C calls again, but I just had a feeling that she wouldn't be into it) and my week of sobriety has not been wasted, thank heaven.
Though yesterday was such an annoying day, Husband pointed out that a drink might have been a good thing. Which is true. But I muscled through on my wits alone, utterly Chardonnay-free, woo-hoo! (Sigh.)
Here's the sitch: I do my math work with three different classes, and because of job-sharing and co-teaching and the like, this means working with five teachers. Four of them seem to appreciate and like me, but one has always acted like I am something she must endure, which of course makes me feel all kinds of happy and comfortable when I'm in her classroom twice a week. My style with the kids is definitely exuberant and joyful (though we do have ground rules, which I refer to all the time), whereas she is much more restrained and controlled (and honestly, if I spent more than 20 minutes a day with these kids, I'd probably have a different style too). But on Tuesday she took me aside for a little talk about "discipline," which basically went like this: "I perceive your group as out of control — no, don't speak, when I said 'talk' I meant 'lecture' — so, if you'll accept my advice, I think you should be much more stern with them and don't let them get away with any of the things you've been letting them get away with. 'Kay? Thanks!"
(Italics mine — I don't let them do crap; when they are pissheads I call them on it, I've already kicked one kid out of the group, and I sent Glum Albie back to his desk just last week when he threw a cube. But whatever, lady.)
She also said that it's very difficult for her when I come on Thursdays, because I'm leading my raucous out-of-control menagerie when she's trying to read a dear little story to her 18 perfectly behaved cherubs, and maybe I could take my wretched feral group of hellions somewhere else? I agreed with great enthusiasm; this will be better for both of us.
Dear Readers, what is your take-away from this story in terms of who will secure the alternate space for my group on Thursdays?
- The Teacher, who knows the school and the staff and the layout and the general schedules and therefore what space might be available
- The part-time Math Practice Guide, who only knows the five teachers she's working with and the three classrooms she's working in and doesn't know squat about the rest of the school
I grabbed my kids — mind you, we are now a group of five: me, Glum Albie, and the three Dramatic Princesses — and we headed out to the hallway, because I truly had no idea where else to take them. And as I'm trying to find five chairs to put around the one empty table, the kids are clamoring, "What are we playing today? Whose turn is it to sit next to you? It's mine, isn't it? No, Glum Albie, it was your turn yesterday. No, it's mine, it's mine! What game are we playing? Can we play Mystery Bag? Can I choose the game? Can I go first? I don't need a chair, I like to stand," and on and on and on, and I kept saying, "Shh, quiet, remember, we're outside somebody's classroom, we need to be quiet," and I'm inwardly seething, feeling so completely set up by this teacher and absurdly conscious of the poor stranger whose class we were probably disturbing (she eventually closed her door), and my four would not shut up (to be fair, there was nothing else for them to do but yap, since I was still securing our pathetic little workspace), and I finally snapped and said, "Oh My God will you BE QUIET??", which stunned them into silence.
Which felt awesome. Not. Yeah, I suck as a disciplinarian.
When I got to my next class, I was a bit early and noticed that the room was empty and then remembered that I'd seen those kids trooping off to the library earlier; I asked the teachers if I could use their room for my earlier Thursday group, and they couldn't have been kinder or more hospitable. Which almost made me cry.
At our Math Practice meeting this morning I told this story, and my wise and wonderful no-nonsense boss said, very calmly, "Some teachers have control issues and that's why they become teachers." !!!! I felt so validated. My boss is awesome.
I love and support teachers, and I have so much empathy for what they go through, and I am very aware that it's Teacher's classroom and it's 100 percent her call how things are going to be, and if I'm making her life harder instead of helping her, then I'm not doing my job — all that is true, and she still pisses me off.
And I did make the new recipe for Pork and Pears with Quinoa last night and it was just average, which was very disappointing. (However, the green bean casserole kicked booty.) Tonight, I took the leftover pork and sliced it very thin and stir-fried it with asparagus and some other vegetables and concocted a sauce from chicken broth and teriyaki marinade and sesame oil and served it over rice, and it was sensational. And I rinsed the quinoa off the pears, sliced them thin, put them in a glass baking dish with some melted butter and brown sugar and poured a simple butter cake batter over the top, and we're all about to feast on upside-down pear cake, which smells divine.
Lemons, lemonade. All good.
I am determined to have a good weekend of light meals and exercise. Wish me luck!
xx Lady C