Had to have a conversation with my kid’s teacher this morning about why he might possibly break into song at some point during the day about killing everyone’s friends and families. That is because we were listening to this in the car and he’s… well, fond of it: So, the ruling: Parenting win? Or parenting fail?
My kid’s school is cancelled tomorrow– not because of the weather, which is supposed to be absolutely outstanding, but because nearly 40% of the students in some grade levels and a not-inconsiderable number of teachers and subs have been sick lately. The email from the principal named no less than four different diseases that had been running rampant in the building lately, and apparently the janitorial staff will be boiling the building tomorrow.
It’s probably good that this happened, because the email also made reference to the “four-day weekend” that the kids were about to have, which made both my wife and I realize that he actually does have Monday off, which neither of us had really realized because we don’t have any idea how the hell to check a school calendar.
So here’s the cool part: I started the Current Occupation in June, right? And it’s mid-February now, as insane as that might feel. During all that time I have not missed a single day of work due to illness. I’ve come home and died a couple of times, and had some less-than-fantastic days, but I haven’t really been sick in months. And that’s after fifteen years of missing, usually, around a day a month every single year I was teaching. I was rarely if ever able to carry sick days across from one year to the next and had to dip into the sick bank twice. And not one illness worth any serious consideration since June, despite constant contact with the public throughout that time.
Add that to the pile of reasons I don’t miss teaching, I guess.
Note: the title to this post very nearly contained a Certain Word that I genuinely try to avoid using under any circumstances, and no, it isn’t the orange shitgibbon’s actual name. Having thus demonstrated restraint by using “hack” instead, do not expect me to do any further holding back.
Motherfuckers, let me be perfectly clear on something here: the next person to try and pull some sort of mealy-mouthed, fuckwitted “Republicans and Democrats are the same” horseshit where I can see them is going to get my hand rammed up their ass so that I can use them as a human puppet for a while and force them to say things that make sense. Because I dare you– I double dare you– I double dog dare you, motherfucker, to find one fucking nominee by a Democrat to a Cabinet post at any fucking point in my lifetime who was even remotely as fucking unqualified for their jobs as any single one of the shitbirds Lord Dampnut has thrown up. It’s fucking unbelievable; the qualification for any Cabinet post appears to be “does this person completely oppose the mission of the department they’re being nominated to head?”
Find one fucking time– one fucking time in the last forty years— where the Democrats nominated anyone as unqualified as fucking Betsy DeVos. I’m serious. If there is one, and I don’t think there is, I want to know about it. I mean, let’s be real, here: this motherfucker had a chance to nominate Ben Carson to something, right? Ben Carson’s a fucking surgeon, and by all accounts is actually good at that. Like, legitimately. So… maybe Surgeon General? Health and Human Services?
Nah. He’s, like, black n’ shit, so put the motherfucker in charge of HUD. I mean, he’s completely fucking unqualified, but what-fucking-ever. Let’s find someone who doesn’t believe in global warming to head the EPA. In every single fucking instance— other than the fucking military, of course– the person nominated to head the department has been explicitly against what the fuck their department is supposed to be for.
Find me a fucking time where the Democrats named a fucking hippie for SecDef. Go ahead, look. You won’t find one. Because the Democrats, despite their frequent lack of basic fucking competence, actually give a shit about having a fucking functional goddamned government. The Republican plan is to loot the citizenry for every single fucking dime they can and “prove” that government doesn’t work by being utterly fucking incompetent at governing every chance they get. It’s explicit. It’s obvious. It’s been going on for fucking decades.
Fuck this. Fuck them. Fuck everyone who fucking voted for them, too.
Something a little different tonight, if you don’t mind (and it’s my blog, so I’m doing it anyway whether you mind or not): I need to make sure you’re aware of a certain children’s book I just read to my son. I was considering making this part of my Creepy Children’s Programming Reviews series, but decided not to.
So here’s the deal: if you have kids under, say, 12 or so, or if you teach science to any kids of any age, or really if you teach at all, you need to acquire a copy of Ada Twist, Scientist and make reading it out loud to said children a part of your mission in life for the near future. Educators will already be aware of this: it’s occasionally a great idea to read out loud to kids, regardless of their age, and it’s also occasionally a good idea to read what are ostensibly children’s books to kids who are on paper too old to be reading those books. You should all find your kids and then find this book (in that order, preferably) and then read it to them.
Here’s why: Ada Twist, Scientist does a great idea of breaking down how science works and how the scientific process works and how scientists think in 32 pages of simple, rhyming prose. The fact that the titular scientist is a young black woman is just icing on the cake. Representation is important, and young women of any race need to see themselves as scientists. So do black children of either gender. And my white male son needs to see scientists who don’t look like him. Plus, again: it taught my five-year-old the word hypothesis. Which he’ll be using in sentences by the end of the week.
Go check it out.
Today was Parents’ Day at Hogwarts, so I spent the first couple of hours of my morning in the company of many preschoolers. I’ll admit it; the whole experience actually managed to make me miss teaching a little bit, and the only thing that kept me from randomly wandering the building after my son’s time was over and popping into other classrooms was the absolute certainty that I would eventually be found out and escorted off the property, and I’m not super interested in being banned from my son’s school, at least not before he’s in seventh or eighth grade.
But yeah. It was fun, and a tiny bit nostalgic; “Yeah, I remember this” sort of stuff. Even though it’s just preschool, there’s enough commonalities there, y’know? Tonight, the boy is spending the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s and the wife and I are Going to See a Show: specifically, Wicked, which has been in town for two weeks, a run that ends tonight. I’ve read the book but have never seen the musical. I used to be a bit of a fan of Gregory Maguire’s work until realizing that he was on a downward slope with each book he wrote; if he’s done anything since Lost I don’t know about it.
I have failed twice at adulting in the past two days; I spent the entirety of yesterday in bed (again) leaving the several boxes of vinyl flooring still in my car and despite dedicating an entire post to how I don’t want an iPhone 7 last week, once I discovered today that Verizon was gonna let me have one basically for free I caved and ordered it. Space black, not the jet. And, uh, a Plus. Which may prove to be a mistake, honestly, but I want the camera. So so much for responsibility.
Speaking of, it’s noon, and I’ve done damn near nothing in the hour and a half since I got home. I’m gonna go… uh. Yeah. Do something. Not in front of the computer. I just gotta figure out what.