Mwaaaahaaaaa mwuuu
mwaaaaa nnnnnnnnnneeeeehhhhhh whaaaaaaaaaahhhh….
You know what that is?
That's the sound I hear all day long as I sit through meeting after
meeting after meeting. The students get
a four-day weekend. Teachers get
sentenced to Hell and have to sit through multiple professional development
activities, beginning at the normal school day start time and extending beyond
the normal finish time.
I will try to listen; I will try to pay attention; I will
try to behave myself. But all I will
hear as I listen with about as much attentiveness as I can muster through seven
hours of lectures will be the sound of Charlie Brown's teacher.
Mwaah mwahhhh
uuuhmmmhaaah.
My eyes have glazed over and I'm not even in the first
meeting yet. I should paint eyes on my
lids so I can sleep and no one will notice.
Once my friend and cohort sitting across the table from me
called me on the cell phone, and we told each other we had to leave the
workshop early due to emergencies at home. We almost made it, too, until someone at our
table realized every time she said, "Oh, it's an emergency? You need me right away?" I answered back with, "Yes, right away. Leave your meeting immediately." Then we switched parts and repeated the exact
same conversation but from opposite sides.
"Are you two talking to yourselves?" the
interloper finally asked.
I leaned into the phone, "I don't know. Sal, are you talking to me?"
"I don't know. Are
you talking to me? Are you
talking to meeeeeee?!"
I've a sad feeling this ploy will not work today. Please wish me luck. Send me happy, wakeful thoughts. Telepath jokes my way. Anything at all, please, to help me get
through this brutally long day.
But if your phone should happen to ring during this
intensely slow day, you'll know it's me by the drooling, yawning sound I make
instead of just saying "Hello."
It'll sound a lot like Charlie Brown's teacher.: Mwwwahhhh
iiiiimmmmmmmm booooorrrreeeedddd saaaaaaaaaaavvvve meeeeeeeeeeee.
If I don't come up for air by tomorrow afternoon, send out
the rescue party.
