Crazy Bitch Cometh

Birth control pills alone make me crazy, and I have been on active ones for 24 days now, with thankfully only 4 more days left to go before I can chuck the evil pack of psychotropics for what is hopefully a very, very long time. These 28 days on actives pale in comparison to the 60+ days on actives while cycling for Baby M, but my God – I just want to crush the little suckers and finally be done with them. Today I started Lupron (yay!), and whether by hormonal hijacking or complete coincidence I have had a very ka-ka day. I just want to go home, eat myself into a brain-frozen, ice cream induced stupor, and stare at mindless reality television.

I am not the weepy type but twice today I’ve almost completely embarrassed myself by approaching the brink of tears in front of first the principal, then one of the assistant principals, then the curriculum coordinator. Okay so that was three times – apparently I can’t count now, either. Half of the 8th grade teachers have had to contend with this completely dreadful parent. This parent uses (un)professional clout to not only pull strings for the student, but also to choke the life out of us with them. My academic team does not actually teach that child so I don’t have to deal with it personally, but I do all of my planning with that child’s Literature teacher and our students do the exact same work. So if the parent has a problem with what we are doing (which always seems to be the case), we both are HEAVILY SUGGESTED by our principal to adjust what we are doing so as not to piss off High and Mighty.

That team’s proverbial ass is in a vise to such an extent that the parent always gets his or her way, and the Board of Education, I think, is fairly scared of the threats made. There is an open case with the BoE and that poor team has to document EVERYTHING they do with that student. EVERYTHING. Earlier this year the parent got upset because a teacher took points off of an assignment because it was written in pencil, not pen. And why couldn’t the student retake that failed science test for a third time? And no! – a child shouldn’t have points deducted because they turned work in two days late – grades are about academic PERFORMANCE, not PUNCTUALITY!

And why, WHY does the child have not one, but THREE major Literature assignments due in a timeframe of just two weeks? Yes, yes – the due dates more than two months in advance and there also hasn’t been any additional homework so that the students can work on those projects and SO WHAT if they have been given class time to work on those projects and it doesn’t MATTER that the teachers have allowed them to edit and revise those projects before the final due date so that they can make the best grades possible – IT’S TOO MUCH FREAKIN’ WORK and her child will die, will just DIE from the sheer burden of it all! Just who do we think the kid IS, anyway – an 8th grader getting prepared for the rigors of high school, or something?

So when the principal, then the assistant principal, then the curriculum coordinator HEAVILY SUGGESTED (but not outright MANDATE) that we adjust our plans to push back the freakin’ TWO MONTHS NOTICE due dates, I felt like I was going to cry – out of being pushed to the utmost of pisstivity. Like I said, I’m not a crier, so I pissed myself off even more to feel like I even wanted to cry in the first place. Had I just been able to tell the collective administration to just grow a set like I really wanted to, I’m sure that I would have felt more like erupting into giddy, maniacal laughter instead of hot, angry tears. But then I’m sure that I would have been fired, and maybe that wouldn’t be such a good thing.

They don’t call it Loopy Lupron for nothing.

*** “Crazy bitch” is a reference to me, and not the parent. And forgive the vagueness of this post. It must be vague, because admittedly, I am a little freaked that somehow, the Internet would backfire on me and this post could cross the view of the wrong person and someone might connect this post to ME and then to the parent. And umm…then my ass would be in a vise. There’s a fat chance of that actually happening, but then again – stranger things have happened.

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