Once again it is back-to-school. And once again, teachers everywhere are schlepping back to the classroom with their dreams of summer vacation slowly fading from memory. OK, not so slowly fading as I found myself daydreaming about lounging by the pool, eating ho-ho's, drinking umbrella garnished vodka drinks, and a certain cabana boy named Paco who will forever hold a special place in my heart.... uhm, when I was supposed to be engaged in professional development training. By the way, teachers are WORSE than students when it comes to our behavior during "class".
During the back to school flurry of fun we teachers get to have, there are tons of forms, schedules, and spreadsheets to complete. My favorite form is the "Personal Information and Emergency Contact" form. What kills me about this form is that it is the EXACT same form I filled out when I was hired by the district years ago. And the same form I completed last year, and the year before, and the year before, and the year before....... Why they just don't keep the form I completed last year and tell me to let them know if anything changes, I don't know. Maybe they just enjoy seeing me realize how pathetic my life really is as I answer questions about my marital status and interests. "Single, two cats, knits." Yep, it's pretty pathetic.
Since we all know I don't do well with things I find to be slightly irritating, I like to have a little fun with the form. (Not to mention slightly redundant.) I like to express myself and answer with the truest of all Ms. Tastrophie answers. Things like when it asks me for my name and what I want to be called, I answer: Well, I want to be addressed as "The High Empress of All Things Chocolate, Princess of the Starbucks and Masterful Queen of the Sarcasm" but if that's too much you can just call me Ms. Tastrophie. The form asks me for my address - which I give. You never know when someone would want to send moi flowers or shower me with gifts and I would hate for them not to be able to send them to the right place. My phone number - again I give it. Just in case they need to call and tell me to take the next week off with pay and not to worry about a sub because they have it all covered. And my date of birth. Which is totally rude and none of their business unless they are going to be sending expensive birthday gifts. In which case see the question regarding address. Not to mention I lie on that one anyway, because a lady never tells and I refuse to admit to being a day over 25. Even though I graduated high school in 1987 and college in 1993 and 1999. GAWD bless the miracle of botox.
Then it gets to the part about emergency information. This is where I just can't help myself. I have to answer these questions with all the do seriousness these questions are just screaming for:
1. Any medical conditions that would prohibit you from doing your job? Well, I am allergic to work and break I out in hives when I am required to do any physical labor. Plus, I don't do mornings very well, so I would appreciate it if you could schedule the classes I have to teach in the afternoons.
2. Are you currently taking any medications? Not right now, but I intend to go to lunch and self medicate with my daily ho-ho with xanax and vodka chaser. I will probably change the times for these self medication rituals once school officially starts, but I'm waiting to see what the semester brings.
3. Do you have any special needs? Oh sweet mother-of-pearl YES! I need a job where I get paid to look good and not one that requires me to get up before 9 a.m. But if you can't arrange that, could you please get me a room with an ocean view, a masseuse named Sven to help work out the stress knots I have in my shoulders and a T.A. who can actually work the copy machine without screwing up a two sided copy?
And my ALL time favorite question
4. Who do you want us to call in case of an emergency? My answer: 9-1-1!!!!
Seriously, what do you think my sister could do for me? She's a flight attendant not a doctor. If I ever need to safely exit a 747 during a freak air incident; she's the person I'm gonna call, but if I'm having a stroke at school because a 7th grader actually DID their homework and turned it in on time, I want you to call the paramedics! What do you think my dad's going to do? He lives three states away. I'm thinking it might take him a while to get there. Don't call my family, call someone who can competently administer high dosages of xanax and ho-ho's. Preferably one of these guys: