Not gonna do it

I absolutely refuse to have an opinion on the whole Will Smith/Chris Rock Oscars thing. I will say this, and this only: that every middle schooler in America yelled the words “Keep my wife’s name out your fucking mouth” in the hallway at least once today, and I could maybe have done without that. If you really need to hear my opinion on it, feel free to go on the Internet, find someone else’s opinion, and assign it to me. I hear that it’s not hard to find people talking about it.

ALSO! My wife and son are out of town. It is the boy’s Spring Break, and she took the week off so that someone was home with him, and they have popped off to Indianapolis for a quick overnight trip to see some friends. I suppose technically I was invited. In accordance with my new temporary bachelor state, I had Chipotle for dinner, bought incorrect lightbulbs at Target (I did not realize that “sunlight” not only meant “full spectrum of light” but also meant “installs two miniature suns in your office”) and I am also currently not wearing pants. I will play video games for three hours once I am done with this post and then get two hours of sleep. It’ll be super.

Let’s see, what else? I have survived the first of the necessary four days until my own Spring Break, which doesn’t really start on Friday, but since Friday is a day with no students it may as well. Tomorrow should also be survivable; I’m hoping for suspensions and/or injuries leading into Wednesday and Thursday.

I received this email from my boss toward the end of the day:

To provide a little bit of possibly-unnecessary context to this, this year the teachers’ day starts at 8:40 on Tuesday and Thursday instead of 9:20, which is when school actually starts. Those two extra 40-minute blocks are supposed to be used for professional development and team meetings. Now, keep in mind, all day Friday is supposed to be PD this week, and as of right now I don’t have the slightest idea what the hell they’re throwing at us. I will be skipping this event and daring anyone to say anything to me about it, because I do not recognize “fun movement activity” as a concept that exists and this is either an extraordinarily tone-deaf joke or an actual insult. I ain’t going. I suspect that “morale raising” is supposed to be the point of this; they can best support my morale at this point in the year by leaving me the hell alone. If anybody asks, I got to work late. Fire me.

And, on that note, I’m off to the Lands Between. Hopefully I’ll notice when it gets dark; this lamp is really out of control.

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Luther M. Siler

Teacher, writer of words, and local curmudgeon. Enthusiastically profane. Occasionally hostile.