antics

Call me Grasshopper; I have so much to learn. I'm overwhelmed. The piled paperwork feels like metasticizing cancer; I need administrative hospice. But, my teammate helped me get my rosters on NCWise so I started entering all my grades into the behemoth state-wide system. It's very big brother. I had to adjust my grades because I think on a ten-point scale (90-100 is an A, 80-89 B, etc). The official system is a 7-point scale, which is a bit of a joke, considering that about a third of my class made below 35% percentile in 6th grade and got passed to 7th. If the grading scale reflected the End of Grade test grading a 75 would be an A. Hell, I have a kid who made 7th percentile in 6th grade. Waawaawaa. So, it feels like a bit of sham to even grade when the students pass no matter what.

After school, I met my mom to give blood. The Red Cross was having a Blood drive at my mom's church. We're prepared to grace the world with our A+ blood. I had a really high hemaglobin count. My blood pressure was fabulous. I'm a horse. Anyway, while Twonda was prepping my right arm and me for the pint, I watch one of the Red Cross guys wheeling this woman over from the screening area over to the recovery area. Twonda says, "I've never seen someone pass out before giving blood." I laugh because it's my mom and tell Twonda this. She asks me if she were sick before coming. I said, "Nah, she just has a vivid imagination." I went over and checked on her. I wasn't much help, considering I was laughing. Call me Nurse Ratchet the Grasshopper.

After I wrapped up giving blood, I join Mom at the snacks table. I catch the tail of her melodramatic explanation about the metallic smell reminescent of a hospital. People listened politely while nibbling on nabs, but I said, "Are you serious?' She was. Maybe, it was the iodine and the flourescent lights. With this shennanigan under her belt, she has lost the right to tease me about my drama-queen antics.