The End of School Days

Yesterday was the last day for the students. That means we made it! Everyone check--ten fingers? Ten toes? Good. Of course I'm saying this in the A.M. I may need a recount at the end of the day.

So far, I've left messages for the parents of failed kids that haven't returned any of my previous calls. I sent letters out last week too, but I'll keep calling until I get that last, indifferent, "I figured as much."

I still have the following ahead of me:

Move all of my furniture to my new room for next year because Borrish wants to "jazz it up a bit" next year and move the entire department around. I assume it's an elaborate ploy to keep a closer eye on me.

Attend the end of the year faculty party that Pécan claims is voluntary, but is having us sign in, so we can say good-bye to the retiring "what's her face?" (Why learn her name now?).

Print off an entire semester's worth of grades to turn in, which is impossible because the district's servers are buckling due to the fact that all of the schools are given the same two hour window to complete this task.

Turn in my keys to an administrator that the Mossad couldn't find.

Enduring visits from former students who have returned from their first year of college and you could have sworn were dreaming about your painful death as they slept through your Leaves of Grass lecture.

Enduring visits from this year's students, asking if they passed or not. They too slept through my Leaves of Grass lecture.

Cleaning out the refrigerator.

Okay, that last one is not a chore. I like to fill up before my summer treks.

Speaking of--even though I'll be off riding the rails to wherever (I can't be laid off if they can't find me); rest assured that I'll be checking in from time to time. Make sure you guys do the same. Now if you excuse me, there's a hot pocket in the freezer that I've had my eyes on this last six weeks.