Mission: So Not Accomplished

The goal was to do enough work yesterday afternoon/evening so as not to have to stay late at work tonight. Yeah, that didn’t work out.

I'm so sorry, Tom. I have failed you.

I’m so sorry, Tom. I have failed you.

Plan A was to grade two sets of vocabulary quizzes to again catch myself up in grading just a day after I had caught myself up in grading. But I’ve had to alter some of the stuff in my British Authors course this year, so I had to change my mid-term exam to reflect those changes. The mid-term exam is next Friday. I’m giving the study guide to my students today. That means that I had to make the changes to the test last night so that I could write the new study guide to pass out. I didn’t even touch those vocabulary quizzes. I suppose they’ll have to wait until some time later today. By which time, of course, I will have two sections of Heart of Darkness quizzes added on to that stack. The horror, the horror.Ā  Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime is not on my side, no it’s not.

The best that you can do (the best that you can do) is make adjustments (fall in love).

The best that you can do (the best that you can do) is make adjustments (fall in love).

Plan B now consists of staying late tonight to plow through as many of those vocabulary and Heart of Darkness quizzes as I possibly can before my mind shuts off somewhere between 6:15 and 6:30. The reason I am trying to get all this stuff done this week is the influx of stuff I’ll have next week. My AP class will have an essay test on Monday. Three classes are turning in poetry term papers on Tuesday. That’s 14 essays and 74 term papers – if everyone turns something in – and that’s not even counting the final which I will have to deal with over the Christmas break.

I imagine that metaphorically, this is what Peyton Manning feels like when he comes under center and sees eight defensive players in the box. Then he starts shouting shit, he waves his arms around like a mad man, shouts some more, then throws a 5-and-out to his wide receiver for 7 yards when the running play originally called would have gained 1. I wish the tv camera would show more of the defensive players’ faces when Manning audibled, just because I enjoy seeing images of pure dejection, like when teams get eliminated from the Little League World Series. Wait, what was the point of this paragraph? Oh, yeah.

I called an audible yesterday. I am going to give up this evening in hopes of saving a few more down the line. I don’t really want to to work this weekend. I want to work as little as possible over Christmas break. I’m not Peyton Manning. I don’t have an endless playbook. I have two plays: grade shit or don’t grade shit. One usually leads to the other.

She's back on the whole "silly face" trip.

She’s back on the whole “silly face” trip.

While I am mired in all this grading and future grading which stands like monolith on the horizon, Madison doesn’t care. I spent about 30 minutes hanging out with her in her room last night. She even let me cruise in the bed with her. This is noteworthy, as you already know that the bed is usually reserved for “girls only.” Lynnette was up to her Elf on the Shelf tricks in the living room so I got the better end of the deal: keeping Mad occupied.

I picked up Honey and did that thing where I pretend to be her voice. Honey’s voice is extremely high pitched and prone to cracking. The inflection bears a little similarity to Kristen Wiig’s Penelope. I am so thrilled that Madison still finds this kind of interaction entertaining. Last night Honey said “Um, so yeah, I would have done the Color Run, but um, I don’t have an legs.” Madison lost it. She started laughing and tried to talk, but couldn’t get the words out. When Lynnette came into the room, Mad tried to tell her what Honey said, but Mad’s words were something along the lines of “Mom! Honey said the Color Run doesn’t have legs!” “What?!” I said. “No, no, no!” Mad said. She tried again and failed again.

The highlight of the night came after I had used Honey to tell several autobiographical stories. “Wait! I have a story!” Mad said. She ripped Honey out of my hands and sat up. She lifted Honey high. Mad opened her mouth as if to say something, stopped then looked at me dead in the eyes and said “I don’t have one.” Her delivery was perfectly deadpan. Now I was the one rolling. I laughed so hard, mini-tears formed at the corners of my eyes.

Lynnette kicked me out of the Girls’ Club because Mad had to go to sleep. Boo.

That’s okay, Mad. We’ve still got Christmas Break!

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