Ever Have One of Those Weeks?

Coming back from Spring Break seemed tougher than usual this year.

Perhaps it's because we have The Class From Hell, and needed more than a week to recover from the exhaustion most of us have been wading through the past month. The fact that the weather has been hot, cold, hot, cold, and just can't make up its mind hasn't helped any. And knowing that the Very Big Deal Government Mandated Test is right around the corner hasn't helped either.

Monday morning it seemed like the whole team had something wrong. Mrs. Social Studies and I both had headaches and neither of us could get in the swing of things. Miss Reading was losing her voice, Mr. Math had no sleep due to a late flight and a 2 year old, and Ms. Language was turning green at various times. I don't think any of us really felt well until Thursday rolled around.

So of course this would be the week that I had something scheduled for nearly every single evening. Monday an event at the local University that hubby and I attended which was very nice and over in time to catch 24. Tuesday my college girlfriend came in from California (she's doing a road trip through the South in conjunction with a convention in Atlanta) so we did BBQ and gossiped way too late in the evening. Wednesday is Knit Night with my local knitting group. Thursday, hubby and I went and saw the documentary Brothers At War (highly recommend it). And today I'm off for Good Friday but I've spent most of the day in the basement as we're having severe weather with sirens going off and all sorts of goofy things.

So I may was well grade papers while the storms rage.

However, a few things to note.

Remember Bully Boy? The kid we suffered through for five months, then he moved, then he was back (and put on another team praise Mr. Enforcer)? Apparently his mother up and moved yet again during break and he is now supposedly somewhere in North Carolina. He's another one of those kids who never stays long enough anywhere to get any help whatsoever.

And then there's Drool Boy. Drool Boy was moved to our team because his mother thought it would be a good idea if he was on the same team our basketball coach taught on since Drool Boy wanted to play basketball. Problem is, Drool Boy may have, at best, a 50% average and isn't going anywhere near sports until he learns to wake up in class, do work, and actually care about something other than his gang-banging friends. Of course Mom is now unable to meet with us, answer the phone, or generally communicate with us about the fact that her offspring is running with a bad crowd and failing yet again. The kid is capable but, like Spicoli Boy and Stoner Boy, I suspect he's smoking something funny every morning. Hence the name Drool Boy which comes from Ms. Language who swears that he's going to drool on his desk one day since his mouth is dropping open so wide.

So the other day Drool Boy is in class and I'm reviewing elements, compounds and mixtures and I notice that Drool Boy is there with his hand in the air after I asked the class a question. A miracle! He's participating! I call on him and he blinks. Now this kid has some pretty slow reaction time, so after a minute I call on him again because his hand is still in the air. He blinks some more.

"Hum, Drool Boy, your hand is in the air," I say. "I'm guessing you want to answer the question."

Drool Boy blinks, slowly swivels his head to look up at his hand that's waving above his head, seems startled to see that, yes, that is his hand there, then slowly lowers it.

"I didn't know it was there," he mumbles.

Ah. Guess he didn't want to answer the question.

You can't make this stuff up. You honestly can't.