Observation(al) Humor

Because having report cards go home, a full moon, excitement over the upcoming spring break and two days of snow and temps that unseasonably cold wasn't enough, I got observed today for the last time this school year.

As I pulled out of the garage and saw the full moon shining, I was rest assured of three things: death, taxes, and certainty we would be squirrely.  (Anyone else feel like they can write a novel on the shenanigans that happen those unfortunate days we work and there's a full moon?)

On a good day, I don't like being observed.  It has nothing to do with my principal, I just don't like it.  Period.  You know those people who have testing anxiety?  I have observational anxiety.

For your entertainment, let me give you a rundown of how my day went:

2:00 a.m. 

It's pitch black and I awaken from a nightmare.  About the observation today.  One that involved my room being invaded by a SWAT team carrying body shields and wearing camo on their faces.  (I think I may have seen an Army ad before I went to bed.)  They came in through my window and the door between my room and my next door neighbor's. 

Needless to say, it was unsettling.

6:15 a.m.

Sit down at my desk.  Begin to print report cards to find server is down.  Realize I can't print my lesson plan.  Pray for divine intervention. 

7:30 a.m.

After printing out my eight page lesson plan I can no longer find it.  Reprint.  All but staple it to my hand.

10:00 a.m.

Principal walks in and the lesson begins.  I am reviewing the letter K and we are identifying the /k/ sound at the beginning and end of words.  Because we heard a story about sharks, we make shark fins to swim infront of our bodies when hear /k/ at the beginning.  Everything is going swimmingly until I see Precious up front.  Not content to move a fin infront, Precious begins to swim back and forth at the front of my rugs.

10:15 a.m.

I realized mid-sentence I am out of sequence.  I had meant to start by reading a book and now my lesson is all out of sequence.  I sheepishly admit this to the principal who just laughs and says he couldn't tell.  He was just enjoying the lesson. 

10:30 a.m.

Back on track.  After Precious infoms me that they were a machine and in sleep mode.  We take a movement break where one child proceeds to show the principal how skilled they are at galloping.

11:00 a.m.

Principal leaves and I am no longer in super stress mode.  I am able to form coherent thoughts again. 

  9:00 p.m.

Laugh about the observation.  Thank the Lord my principal is understanding. 


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