February 17, 2009
me no knit? that's unpossible!

In the ranking of the schools where I have worked (all two of them) Bat Masterson has officially left the Shangri-la category. Today I was called down to the office after class. As I walked down the steps, I readied my opening line. Look, I don't know what that student told you, but it was consensual.

Heh. No, I kid. Opening with an inappropriate joke about pederasty in a school office is about as inflammatory as joshing about bombs to airport security. It may be funny in my head, but I'm still going to get tackled. So there was no opener, just a look of polite interest.

The problem: me, knitting. The (new world) order: no more knitting in meetings or (gulp) the classroom. Even Goneril, my previous principal, never thought to prohibit knitting in the classroom. And, unless I want another after-school meeting (and I don't), I suppose I should assume that I'm not to knit on my supervisions anymore.

Caf duty with no knitting. Can my irritability be contained? I think someone's gonna get suspended.

The bright side is that I've been told to substitute with writing. This may increase my journaling frequency, but at the cost of all y'all having to read a lot of ill-tempered rants and sniveling pleas for just one more row. That, or I'm going to be hiding in the bathroom with a secret stash more often than I'm seen in public.

Fabulous class last night. Valizan worked us until my arms screamed for mercy, and I had a maniacal grin on my face the whole time. This is the first exercise class in my entire life in which the ending came as a surprise. I'm a classic clock-watcher, and the order to turn in our tassel belts came through as noise at first. What? Aren't we going to dance some more?

I love this. I LOVE this. I LOVE this.

Too bad I can't knit and dance.

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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*