After school we had a meeting about the writing curriculum. Ms. Ice Queen, a first grade teacher who was the leader of the group (I had been installed as co-leader), suddenly quit the group without explanation, at least to the rest of the faculty. So now I'm the main leader. I'm not the type who likes to sit around analyzing where we've been and where we're going and whether that's the way we want to go --- at least not for very long. Those are necessary things to consider, but at some point, I want action to be taken. For example, if we're examining our expectations to see if they're appropriate, consistent, and form some kind of continuum, eventually we'll need to stop examining and start pruning, streamlining, and inserting new ideas.
So, with very short notice, this afternoon I tried to pick up where Icy left off, and asked for input and volunteers to complete some tasks. But man, teachers can be such a contrary, heel-dragging bunch, especially at this school. They were questioning why we needed to do things, and whether it wouldn't be redundant with all the documentation we already have, and so on.
I wanted to say, "Look, jerks, you're right, okay? You know and I know all this is just window dressing, to make us keep our minds on our work, and so the administration can say we revamp the curriculum frequently. We're not meant to move mountains here. So how about just shutting up and writing out the extremely brief page I'm asking for so we can go the hell home." Of course I didn't. Eventually, a couple of people said they'd write the drafts, and I said I'd write the mission statement of writing philosophy, and we called it a day. I'd like to say that I adjourned the meeting, but actually people just started standing up and walking away. I have no power, and garner no respect.
After the meeting I picked up some Asian take out food for five and brought it to R's house. His mother has ovarian and carcinoid cancer and may not recover, though she's in treatment. I guess that puts my spine herpes, vertebrae misalignment, heart troubles and neck fungus in a relative light; they're not (as yet) fatal --- though Ganesh on the great greasy Ganges, this zona itches like a mofo. Arrrrgh! Scratchscratchscratch ointment medicine arggh
Hey, how come at work I can be patient as Job and Buddha, charming and funny with the kids all day, and then at that one single moment when I've reached my limit, at the fifteenth useless petty transgression, and I call out to a troublesome boy in a clearly fed-up tone --- that's the very moment an admin walks by?
Because there is no why. That's why.