I don't know how many of you are familiar with this game....but (For those not in the know, it's a game you play in the car. When you're sitting at a red light...or long line of traffic, someone calls out "fire drill!" and everyone jumps out of the car and runs around it two or three times before finally (right when the light changes and breathess and giggling like maniacs, usually) everyone jumps back into the car pell-mell. This can result in people being in different places in the car than where they were before. I have no idea why we call it "chinese" fire drill.) with all that's going on, I feel like I'm having to constantly switch my driver's seat position in the car that is my life.
Last week a coworker of mine acted in a way that has placed her pretty high on my (and many of my coworkers') "list." You know the one. The list that you try your darndest to stay off of for most people. *sigh* Anyway, due to her extremely unprofessional actions (as a teacher, the best thing you can do for your students is always keep them in mind and always be prepared to do your best by them-this person has not.) a lot of additional responsibilities have fallen to my (and my coworker, L's) shoulders. We have done our best to step up to the plate and help prevent any fall-out that these actions have caused. In doing so, we have come to the harsh reality of how badly this person has failed her students. It's ridiculous, really, especially considering that L and I do most of the curriculum planning. Needless to say, it's been a little (uh-understatement of the year!) stressful- especially with our dreaded state tests next week, and the reality that there is a large population of our students who are sadly unprepared.
If you haven't picked up on it yet, my driver's seat has been mostly occupied by "the teacher" these last weeks. It's sad really, because "the artist" is sitting in the backseat begging for permission to drive. Pleading and reasoning, "you need a rest", "just think of all you will create", "it'll do you good" are all shoved ruthlessly to the side. "No, 'the teacher' says, not right now!" Then there's "the wife" in the passenger seat, making comment and suggestions on what course to take and trying her darndest to get behind the wheel. "After all, it's my duty," she says. "I must keep healthy and happy in order to keep my husband the same." She can manage to get behind the wheel a little every day, but usually is ordered aside once the days begins.
I look back, and there she is. "The artist" is sitting in the backseat, gazing mournfully back at me in the rearview mirror.