Time to Kill

No, not the movie - Sam Jackson is cool, but not cool enough to float this white-man savior flick. It is me who has the time for the killing. Er, killing time, that is. Whatever. I was sick last time I posted something and I'm sick now - not the same illness. That would make it AIDS or something. I went to the doctor's office yesterday because I was bitten by a cat at my principal's house. Really hard and repeatedly. My finger looks like it was slammed in a door with nails sticking out. So the doctor (male nurse practitioner) points out that I have a sinus infection to go along with my infection caused by feline bitery and prescribes me these gigantic and expensive horsepill mammajammas. (Teacher health plans suck goats.) So I'm sick, but not for long. And my finger is guaranteed not to fall off. By a male nurse practitioner.

Anyway, I'm killing time because I'm still at school waiting for a meeting on my own time. Each year we have to draw up specific individual plans for students who fail to meet FCAT goals. What is FCAT, you might ask? A great test with monumentally stupid implications thanks to the No Child Left Behind (but neatly swept under the rug is OK) Act. So all of the kids in my intensive language arts class have a plan and their parents are supposed to come tonight to sign it and, if previous years are any indication, stare blankly at me because these plans are stupid and redundant and probably flash cleavage liberally because they've never seen a male teacher under the age of 30 with no visible scars.

Wish me luck.