Listen

All Saints' Day- good ol' Catholic girl that I am, I know this. So, even exhausted after an evening of entertaining (ok, transporting) my 14 year old daughter and her friends around town as they straddled "too grownup to Trick or Treat" and "sure would like some candy", I woke up at my usual workout time. Not that I worked out, unless you count opening the blinds and tossing out countless carelessly abandoned candy wrappers as pre-game stretching. "Pre-game"?! I guess the game, then, is my work. The game is where I go, and what I do for distraction from all the non-game of my life. By that, I mean the separation from my husband of just less than nineteen years. Yup, that's the non-game. The game is special education teaching in a public intermediate school.

So, I went to my "game". Here, one of the students bit one of my staff. But, she says things like "that's how he do it..." (not "does it") which drives me crazy. So, I didn't feel too sorry for her. I tried to. But, I just couldn't. I filed my daily report to a child protective agency (an oxymoron, I think!) about one of my students exhibiting signs of sexual abuse (particularly noteworthy as mom has recently shacked up with a known sex trafficking king pin). The worker assured me it'd be filed with the others. That's exactly what I feared. I spent the rest of the work day trying to teach ABCs and 123s. I felt as useful as a rain coat in the desert. Again. Thank God for short term memory loss- but, that's another story.