Let Me Entertain You

Alas for you, I have not only remembered every detail of my day yesterday, but having 24 hours to ruminate on it has reminded me of a few more. So buckle your seatbelts, away we go!

My fabbo day started as Thursdays usually do, with a mad dash from my car to my office, the throwing down of whatever stuff I have on the office floor, then the frantic run out to my duty station. Thursday is my duty day, or, as I like to call it, my doody day, and I'm always late. It's the day when I'm responsible for getting the criminals-in-training from the parking lot into the school without letting them get squished by cars. It requires a considerable amount of restraint on my part because even though I don't like some of them, it's still my job to keep them unsquished. For this job I am allowed to carry a stop sign, which I pick up in the front office on my way out and which has no effect whatsoever on traffic control.

On this particular morning, I learned on my run through the office that a fight had broken out between two of our little angels. They had been brought by their ears to the office by JoAnn, one of our educational assistants. As she was reporting their derelict behavior to the staff, someone noticed that their father was still in the building and--hey!--happened to be right outside the office door. Before I go any further, let me describe this man to you: think Shrek, but taller, wider and an asshole. And not green. He was big. Effing big. I've seen him at school with his two-year-old daughter; he walks about 10 feet in front of her and then berates her for not keeping up with him. Her legs are 18 inches long. So anyway, he got yoo-hooed into the office and told that his son has been misbehaving. He did not take kindly to this. In fact, after he grew another foot in each direction and took in a deep gulp of air, he--do you remember that end-of-the-day work whistle that blew in the Tom & Jerry cartoons? Well, that's what he did. He blew, just like that whistle.

I've never heard anything so loud or vitriolic. He wasn't just yelling; he was spewing. He got into people's faces and at one point even brought his fist up like he was going to hit one of our secretaries. Instead, he plunged ito down on the counter with a loud thunk. This did not make it any less scary. It was ugly and frightening, and those of us nearby had to scramble quickly to call the police and get the kids out of the way.

In case it slipped past you earlier, this was a parent. A parent. And the topic of his rant? Sit up and take note, because you'll really love this part--he was bellowing about how his kids were bullied every day at school and he wasn't going to put up with it anymore! Oh. Oh, dear. That does sound like a problem, doesn't it? I mean, I can see how that would upset him, having to share bullying time with 10-year-olds.

Good Lord--how was this man allowed to procreate?!

So the police were called and, surprisingly, he left quietly(ish) with them. Oh, full of expletives, to be sure, but mostly quiet ones. It will soothe your heart to know that charges have been filed and a restraining order placed against him. I hope he explodes one day. Literally. Even his tiny, tiny dick.

That was the main water cooler fodder of the day, of course. For me, though, it was only the beginning of a strange day that included being rammed at full speed by a 3-year-old with a shopping cart (child-sized, naturally); having to rescue two fluffy bunny babies whose caretakers had forgotten, apparently, that they needed food and water to survive; being told to screw off by a teacher (she meant it in a loving way, I think); realizing that our new deaf student had unexpectedly shown up a day early; and being told by my principal that he heard I might have some expertise in handling sexually inappropriate behavior in children. W..h..a..t?!! Dear Lord, please tell me what I have done to elicit such attention on your part. Reveal to me what sins I have committed so that I may correct them and return to a life of harmless hallway gossip, microwaved lunches, and never-ending snotty noses.

I realize this blog has sounded suspiciously like a bitch-fest. I'll confess to you, though, that there's some small and probably unwell part of me that likes the fact that there's never a dull day. Never. Some are more interesting than others, but they all keep me coming back. It reminds me of that Dixie Chicks song, Not Ready to Make Nice: It turned my whole life around, and I kinda like it.

I do.