Today is report card conference day at school, so students got out of school at 11. Parents had been given bulletins asking them to visit their children's teachers from either 12-3 or 6-8:30. Parents and guardians must pick up the report cards and sign a bunch of paperwork, etc., etc. It gives teachers a chance to do something they've wanted to do for weeks on end - put a face to the blame. Blame as in, "So YOU'RE responsible for the creation and continued life of this creature?!"

I don't have a homeroom class anymore. In fact, I now teach three full ELA skills classes a week that don't count as graded courses. The rest of the time I work with students in small groups. (You know this already, right)? So...I have no parents I should see. I'd love to just happen to meet some parents of my former and current students. To rag or brag on their kids. Alas, after making a few rounds of the legal studies academy, I only saw two of my former students in the doorway of my old classroom. Kadijatu ran from the room and hugged me tightly. Edith stood in the doorway and said, "Come back! We hate this man," not quite under her breath. I saw how Mr. Patton has rearranged room 108 and I can't say I miss it. He and I were cordial, but I think he might secretly hate me for so easily giving up my old job. I took the autographed copy of From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler off the bookshelf, because I need one lovely parting gift from Room 108, don't you think? Besides, some student from long before I ever taught at I.S. 666 wrote her name in this autographed book! Such disregard for a collector's item!

I think I'm going to relax before I have to go all the way back to the school for Part II of The Most Tedious Day Of Work Ever, Not That I'm Complaining. Mr. Chen, the sweet but generally unintelligible AIS math teacher, has asked if I could help him go over chapter two of Pedagogy of the Oppressed tonight, since his English is so bad. I've agreed. No wonder he has a crush on me. I am too nice.