Today is the official start to No Name-Calling Week at
school.
Thankfully, it is a short week, only four days, because I
will be completely mute by Friday. I
mean, it's bad enough that I can't call the kids names at school:
ME: Why do you
have a sharpened pencil sticking out of your nose?
STUDENT:
Because I figured if I actually stuck the sharp end INTO my nose, that
might be bad.
(This is where I would usually say something intelligent like
"Doofus" or "Goober" because honestly there's just no
arguing with that logic, yet the pencil would still be up the student's nose.)
What about family members?
So when my son calls to tell me that he re-opened the thumb wound that
has already had stitched closed twice this year, or when a neighbor tells me my
sister has jumped out her bathroom window yet again, or when my daughter
invites me on a "little walk" that turns into seven miles, I can't
say anything like, "You knuckleheads, are you trying to kill me?!"
What about the idiot drivers, yapping on their cell phones
and ignoring stop signs or sitting at green lights? You're telling me that I can't swear at those
assholes. So, apparently I honk and wave
at them. May I please wave with only one
finger raised?
Telephone solicitors?
Come on, people, you cannot be serious here. That's not fair. That's not right. That's like letting them bully me and I can't
fight back. It's like being duct-taped
to a chair and forced to listen to Abba music for days on end. My ears will start bleeding if I can't hurl nasty
epithets via the phone lines.
Okay, really. The
inauguration was Monday. So many
politicians, so little time. That's not
even politically correct having No Name-Calling Week in the same week when
Washington resumes its status quo. Please! Please let me say something. It's like shooting fish in a barrel. So easy, so satisfying, and we'll all have
something to chew on after we've skinned and scaled 'em.
I haven't taken the official pledge yet, so I can still opt
out of participating in No Name-Calling Week, but I was semi-tricked. At a meeting last week, I was tricked into
accepting one of those bracelets for No Name-Calling. It's like accepting a flower on behalf of
those cult-like religious organizations that hang out at the airport. Once you've been touched, you're essentially
infected.
I will do my best to live up to the No Name-Calling Week's
higher standards. Truthfully, I give
myself fifteen minutes, figuring that I arrive at school at 7:30 and the kids
arrive at my door at 7:45. If I make it
through homeroom announcements, I'll be amazed.
But do this for four days? An
entire week? Good lord, I'd be dead by
Friday afternoon, in which case the kids can start calling me names … or
continue the mutual tradition we started in September. Losers.
